The Perfect Cut
by starlessglamour
Summary: It was love at first smite for James and I…the first time I saw him I nearly killed him via suffocation by cleavage (his own, thankyouverymuch) after he said my name was manly (the bastard) …it turns out our love really does know no limits. Oh, and did I mention that I'm dying? No? Hmm. Funny how that always slips my mind.
1. My Little Problem

A/N: I originally wrote this back in 2010, and posted it to another website. I am now going through and editing all of the chapters, which I will post here at least once a week! I hope you enjoy.

I'm not the kind of girl who keeps secrets. Not really. Which is why it's weird that I have one now, a BIG one, that I've been forbidden to tell anyone. Even my best friend Jackson doesn't know yet.

"Max! Get your butt down here, or you'll be late for the Academy!" Ah, my brother's lovely voice, at six in the morning. Not exactly an ideal wake-up call. I groan, snuggling deeper under the covers, ignoring him as per usual. Sure enough, like he does every morning, he comes stomping up the steps and throws open my door, then the curtains, letting a stream of early-morning light waft into the room. I scowl; I am _not_ a morning person, not even close.

"Can't I sleep another half-hour, at least?" I ask, already knowing the answer. He just gives me a look, the kind of look that scalds, and I sit up in bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "You are so _mean_. Just because lovely _Jessica_ pays attention to you now, you're all eager to go to school. It isn't _normal_ , Ben. And you know she's only nice to you because of your looks." He just looks at me.

"So?" He shrugs, looking unconcerned. Stupid boys.

" _I_ would care." I assure him, still scowling. He snorts.

"Well, it's not like it's ever happened to you, has it?" He says, laughing, then runs downstairs before I have a chance to beat the snot out of him. Since I'm up, I pull on my school uniform: a wrinkled white blouse, knee-length blue and silver plaid skirt, a navy tie, and matching navy knee socks. I don't bother tying the tie, or pulling up my socks the whole way; who cares any more? It's not like I have anyone to impress at the Washington Academy of Magic for Girls, or as we like to call it, G-WAM.

My brother, Benjamin, goes to our neighboring and rival school, the Washington Academy of Magic for Young Men, otherwise known as the PC (poof central). Nobody actually calls it that, except for the entire G-WAM student body. And some of the staff. It's even been said that PC's principal accidentally used the nickname once, but that could be just a rumor.

We're supposed to wear our hair up every day, in a blue ribbon, so I tie mine up as sloppily as possible. Also, we're not supposed to wear any make-up. Umm, _hello_ , but this is the 20th century, is it not? I smear on some lip-gloss and eye shadow, and head off downstairs, wand tucked safely behind my ear. Ben is in the kitchen, admiring his reflection in a cereal spoon. I roll my eyes, and start humming 'You're so vain,' under my breath. I really do love that song.

"Finally ready, are you?" Ben snaps, obviously embarrassed that I caught him looking at himself in a spoon.

"What's for breakfast?" I ask, ignoring him. He points to the cereal cupboard.

"We have Cheerios, or there's one Poptart left."

"Thanks." I take the Poptart out of it's shiny, metallic wrapper, and pop it into the toaster oven, still humming to myself. Humming drives Ben crazy. I only have to wait a minute before he explodes.

"WILL YOU CUT THAT OUT?" He screams, then storms furiously out of the room, fists clenched at his sides.

"Was it something I said?" I ask aloud. Ahahaha, he is so fun to tease. The toaster oven dings loudly, and I gingerly take out the smoking pastry, careful not to burn myself. The pink icing drips down onto my fingers, and I lick it off. Ya gotta love an American breakfast.

Ben comes back in. This surprises me, since usually it takes him at least ten minutes to cool down. It's been only eight; something must be wrong.

"Did you take your medicine?" He asks, raising his eyebrows at me in that parent-like way he has of doing it. I scowl.

"No, not yet. What's the point, anyway? If I'm going to die, why drag it out, prolong the inevitable? Oh, don't give me that look, it's not like I _want_ to die…" Ben's looking at me, his normally tan skin paled considerably, eyebrows furrowed.

"You're not going to die! I won't let you!" he states; it sounds childish, the way he says it. I can hear the despair in his voice.

"You know you can't promise that, Benny. I know it's not fair, for you to be left alone here when I'm gone, but I don't exactly feel like I'm getting the best end of the deal either." I'm trying to make a joke, but this just seems to distress him further. It's been awhile since we've had this conversation; we usually just carry on, bickering with each other, ignoring my Little Problem. The real dilemma is, my Little Problem isn't so Little any more.

Here's the deal, where my Big Secret comes in (eventually): my parents are both dead. That's not the secret; everyone knows it. They died from a very rare lung infection, both of them, and somehow I have it now. The doctors are as stumped as we are, as my parents were before they kicked the bucket. Ben's chances of getting it are fairly good, since the rest of our family has, but he's two years older than me and still healthy as ever, so hopefully he's safe.

The secret is how far it's progressed: very far, in a very short amount of time. Too many 'verys' for my liking. Most of the time I'm normal, but when I get really upset, or surprised, or even exercise for too long, my lungs basically stop working. Instead of expanding like they're supposed to, they sort of deflate, squeezing the air out of me, and I can't breathe. It pretty much sucks, actually. It's only happened four times to me, thanks to the medication I'm on, but I grew up listening to both my parents wheezing and gasping for breaths, faces constantly twisted in agony, so it feels like I've had it a lot worse than I actually have.

Ben is saving up money to send him and me to England, where a doctor says he has a surgery he can perform on me that could help me live longer. It's crazy expensive; luckily, our parents left us everything, so we're not that bad off. Plus, we can Apparate. Of course, Apparating that far is terribly dangerous (plus it kills my lungs), so we'll be flying via airplane.

"Well, just make sure to take it before we leave. I don't want any accidents." Ben acts all big and tough, but really he's just a softy. After finishing my Poptart I make sure to give him a big hug. He groans, then finally hugs me back, a bit. "I love you, Maxi-Pad, a lot. Don't leave me."

"Never." I whisper, smiling. "Although, if you call me Maxi-Pad one more time, I'd be more concerned for your safety than for mine, mister." And then I pull away, grab my backpack, my medicine bottles, and my wand from behind my ear, and Apparate to G-WAM's front gates. As always, Apparating hurts a bit; my chest squeezes in complaint of the stress, and I have to let out a few big coughs before it goes back to normal again. Well, as normal as it can get, under the circumstances.

"Hey, Max! Long time no see!" Jackson, my best friend in the whole wide world, comes up behind me, wrapping his hands around my waist in a hug. "What've you been up to?"

"In the twelve hours since I saw you last? Not much, sadly. You?"

"Ditto. You take your medicine yet?"

"Geez, what is it with you boys and your bossiness? No, I did not take my medicine yet if you must know." Like I said, Jack knows about my Little Problem, just not how far it's progressed by now. "I'll take it later."

"Uh-uh. Take it now, so you don't forget. Do you need some water for after?" he offers me his half-empty water bottle, and I snort.

"Please. Honestly, you'd think I was helpless." I pull out a small clear bottle filled with a light orange, fizzy liquid.

"I can never get over how much it looks like orange pop." Jack grins, teasing. I down the gross stuff in two swallows, trying not to taste it.

"Yeah, tastes like it too." I lie, rolling my eyes. Honestly, why the hell would anybody make a potion that tastes like radioactive waste? I take out the clear liquid next; this one is harder to drink; it's thick and very concentrated, like syrup.  
"Ick, that is soo disgusting. Gimme that water." I snatch his water from him, guzzling it down with too much enthusiasm. It goes down the wrong way, and makes me cough. Dammit!

"Woah, slow down there. You okay?"

"Peachy. Thanks for asking." I say between coughs. It takes me another five minutes to calm down, and by then we're really close to being late for our classes. Jackson is a teacher at my school, odd as it sounds. He teaches P.E. He's only actually a couple years older than me, really, but he got the job because he's so badass on the soccer field. He was on PC's A-team for six out of the seven years he went there. That's one thing I really like about these schools: they offer muggle sports, as well as magical ones like Quidditch. I myself am not aloud to play any sports because of my lungs, even though I desperately want to. Before M.L.P came along, I played soccer (striker), volleyball (captain), and Quidditch (keeper). Now, I'm so inactive you could probably compare me to a floating log. Or my brother.

Oh, Benny has potential, all right. He could play any sport he wanted to, that's how athletic he is. Except, he has this ridiculous notion that my feelings would get hurt if he could play and I couldn't, so he quit.

"All better?" Jackson asks, concerned. I nod.

"Thanks. Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Damn!" and off he sprints, waving, into the gym area. To some our relationship seems weird, but the other teachers have learned to deal with it. After all, we've been best friends since I was in diapers. You can't just stop that kind of thing. Ben…well, his and Jack's relationship is a bit less happy-go-lucky. Good ol' Benjamin seems to think Jackson is "using me." Whatever. I think he's just jealous, since Jack's so popular.

"Hey, DeVough! Get your ass up here and into class, before you get detention!" Ah, my favoritist teacher, Mr. Claire.

"Hi, Mr. C. Good summer? How's the hubby?"

"Mind your own business! And for the love of all that is holy, please get inside, before I'm forced to mark you down."

Oh, and here's the bell. I am o-ficially tardy. Teehee. I'm such a rebel.

"Ten points off, for being tardy the first day."

"What? That brings me down to a frickin' M, you frickin'—I mean, you teacher, you…" he's glaring at me. Stupid fat old wind-bag.

So here's the grading rubric our school uses. At the beginning of the marking period (we have four) each student starts out with one hundred points. Now I've got frickin' ninety.

91-100: Outstanding (O)  
81-90: Moderate (M)  
71-80: Basic (B)  
61-70: Below Basic (BB)  
60-below: Say Goodbye to G-WAM Kid, Yer Outta Here (S)

I haven't even entered the blasted building yet, and I'm already a grade lower than I was two seconds ago. This sucks. On the bright side, at least I don't have to see Mr. Claire again this year—he only teaches the under-sixth years. Mr. Donolly teacher the sixth and seventh years; I hear he's a blast.

I already know my schedule by heart:

7:30-7:50 Homeroom (HR) Mr. Landis  
8:00-8:45 Transfiguration Mrs. Maloney  
8:55-9:40 History Mr. Donolly  
9:50-10:35 Free Period  
10:45-11:30 Gym Mr. Davis  
11:40-12:25 Lunch  
12:35-1:20 Potions Ms. Beasley  
1:30-2:15 Charms Mr. Walsh  
2:25-3:10 Art/Music Mrs. Hoover  
3:15 Dismissal

From school I go straight home, take my medicine, and practice violin for an hour or so. The rest of the day is free-time.

I slide into Transfiguration five minutes late (I always skip HR, as a general rule) and take my seat at the front of the classroom.

"Before you go ballistic on me, I already got docked ten points by Mr. Claire, sooo…yeah, you really don't need to go to all of the trouble."

"I'm going to have to dock you two points, for skipping homeroom today, Maxine." Mrs. Maloney says, looking evil and cowish, like usual.

"What the flip! I already told you, I'm at a flippin' M! Have some compassion, woman!"

"Watch your tongue, Ms. Devough! Now, class, if you could kindly continue reading where you left off, on page 21…"

Blahhh, blahh….like I don't already know this stuff anyway. I'm the Queen of Transfig, hands down. Mrs. Maloney knows it, too.

Instead of reading the book we're assigned, I look out the window, watching the PE class do their thang. First up in the school year is always soccer, then basketball, then tennis and volleyball, and finally Quidditch. We have a Quidditch team that practices all year 'round, of course, but as a school we're required to take it in the spring, no matter what. Unless you're me and have an MLP, in which case, sucks for you.

Jack is leading drills; I watch as everyone sprints up and down the field, dribbling in and out of cones; I watch as Danny Lyons, the GORGEOUS and very talented Quidditch and soccer captain, flexes those golden, sweaty, sexy-looking muscles—

"—Which would be what, Ms. DeVough?"

"Sexy—I mean, um, what? Hold on..." Mallory Jacobs is trying to mouth the answer to me from across the room, but I can't quite read her lips. "What I meant to say is, to do it you've gotta…whoa, that is _inappropriate_ , Mallory!" Everyone turns to look at her. She shrugs, grinning.

"I just said 'you've gotta really flick it hard.'" She flicks her wand in demonstration. "It's not my fault if she can't read lips."

Everyone starts laughing; the teacher scowls. "A point from each of you; Ms. Jacobs, keep your lips to yourself, and Ms. DeVough, please refrain from drooling over the soccer team and pay attention." At this every single eye in the room turns towards the windows, taking in the wonderful sight that is shirts-versus-skins. Nice goin', real smooth there Missus M. Wow, he is _fine_!

The rest of the class passes in much of the same manner. And then, when class is almost over, Danny Lyons, _the_ Danny Lyons, looks over at me, and _waves_. Yes, waves. I grin, blowing him a kiss when he turns his back again. But—oh, _shit_ , I think Jack saw me…now, knowing my luck he probably thinks I have a thing for him, which I totally don't! Frick on a stick, my timing sucks. Jack gives me a weird look, and then a slow grin spreads across his face.

And then, the bell rings, and he winks and turns away, to lead his class inside.

Crap. I think I'm in trouble.


	2. Scones, and Why I Hate Them

So, as it turns out, Mr. Donolly is pretty frickin awesome. He lets us do whatever we want; we hardly learned anything the whole class (!). When it's over, things have gotten so out of control that Mr. Claire comes from across the hall and chews us out. Very funny.

For my free period I hang with Mallory, Stephanie, and Lexis. They're all pretty close friends with me, but not like Jack and I. Speaking of Jack, gym's next…I hope this little misunderstanding clears up. When the bell rings, I take a deep breath, and head off to the girls' locker room to change.

Jack teaches both the boys at PC and the girls at G-WAM, and unfortunately girls and boys wear basically the same gym uniform, minus the sports bras. I hope.

Maroon shorts, a gray t-shirt; can this get any more distressing? They aren't even our school colors! I'm not exactly fashion-crazy, but even to me this is ridiculous. I exchange my t-shirt for a white tank top, and roll up the knee-long shorts so they're at least acceptably hot, minus the hideous color. Maybe Danny will be watching!

After tying my hair up more securely with a black scrunchie I head out onto the fields, where about half of the class is already waiting, either stretching out or zoning out, eyes closed, completely dead to the world.

"Miss DeVough, are you _trying_ to lose yourself points? Why aren't you wearing your uniform?"

"Oh, Mr. Davis, you always were the kidder of the lot! Haha, uniform. Good one."

"Get over here, Max. Now. We need to talk." He's talking in his 'serious' voice; the rest of the class continues to look bored.

"Whatev', Mr. D." I follow Jackson off, away from the class but still in sight of them.

"Max, you know I can't give you special treatment over the rest. Please go change. I am your teacher, and right now you are in my class, so you listen to me."

"Fine, Jackson. What, are you going to ask me to call you 'Mr. Davis' now, too, even when it's just the two of us? What's next, huh? God, it's like I don't even know you anymore."

"Max, please…please, just cooperate, I really want to keep this job."

"Yessir, Mr. Davis, your Royal Highness. I'll go change now." I storm away, back into the gym, grumbling under my breath. Stupid, self-righteous bastard. Making me change for no reason, other than 'it's the rules.' Rules are meant to be broken; I thought everyone knew that! I'll show him.

I angrily throw on my gray t-shirt again, then take my wand out and shrink it, so that it fits me better, and doesn't make me look like I'm swimming in an off-white potato sack. I'm still really ticked off; my lungs are starting to ache. I took my medicine, though…as long as I'm not hit in the chest with a soccer ball I'll be fine.

Once I return outside, I immediately notice that the class is already playing a game. Scowling, I run over to Jack, breathing a bit irregular.

"There, Coach. Better?"

"Thank you." He looks relieved. "Maxi, come on, don't be mad at me…I'm just trying to do my job…"

"And I'm trying to do mine. I'm a teenage girl, Jack. It's my duty to be rebellious. Now what position do you want me in?"

"Are you sure you can play? How are your lungs?"

"Fine, fine; I took my medicine, remember? As long as I don't play for more than ten minutes at a time I should be fine."

"Okay. You're on Gray Team, as a goalie." He blows his whistle, and the game stops, then starts again once I'm in position. Yes, Jackson loves to play me in Goalie, since I don't have to run as much when I'm in the box.

I have a pretty clear view into the guys' classroom in PC from here, actually…suh-weet! I can just make out the back of Danny's beautiful black-haired head, and next to him, the unmistakable mass of golden curls that is my brother. Geez, his hair is getting a bit long. I tried to get him to cut it, but then he just—

"Hey! Watch out, Max, the ball's-" And then the ball slams into me, and I'm on the ground, and the ball rolls out of bounds. No goal!

Oh, _shit_.

"Jack!" I clutch at my throat, trying to force air through it, eyes watering. Of course, the ball had to hit me in the frickin' chest. That's just the kind of luck I have, apparently. He rushes over to me, a panicked looks on his face, and falls to the ground beside me. "Get…Ben…" I wheeze, because this is a really bad one, I can tell. Ben is the only one who knows what to do. Usually I try to keep him unaware of my attacks, but this is definitely a Need-To-Know situation.

Jackson raises his wand and closes his eyes, a focused look on his face; a golden eagle soars out of his wand.

"Go to Ben. Tell him that he needs to get out here immediately, his sister's having an attack." The eagle flies away, screeching shrilly, and flies straight through the classroom window. My brother turns around, looking surprised. When he hears the message, he apparates out here without a second of hesitation. I'm barely conscious by now, gasping and choking for breath, my eyes rolling. All I want to do is breath again, but I can't. A loud rushing sound fills my ears, drowning out basically everything else, and static fills my vision.

"Max! Max, come on, you gotta hold on now, okay?" I hear my brother's steady voice through all the fog, and reach out to him desperately. I feel myself being flipped onto my stomach, then scrunched into the fetal position, as someone else is casting spells on me in a shaky, scared voice.

And then, as suddenly as it started it's over again, and cool air rushes into my lungs, filling them. I gasp on the air, sucking in as much as I can, probably hyperventilating.

"Max? You okay now?" I nod, still dizzy, my lungs still burning along with my throat.

"Well, that was…unfortunate…" I breath, looking up finally. The sun seems very bright now, after all that darkness. Jackson and Ben are both crouched over me, faces anxious. "I think I'm fine now."

"What were you thinking, Maxine? You could have died! And why the hell didn't you take your medicine like I told you to?" Ben is no longer calm, but furious.

"I did take my medicine! Jack saw me do it!"

"And _you_!" he says, pointing a shaking, accusatory finger at Jackson, ignoring me completely. "You let her play! How many times have we been over this? Do you _want_ her killed?"

"Calm down, Ben, we're all very upset here, there's no need to play the blame game. I know you're upset, but—"

"Upset? Upset? No, man, this is not upset. This is fuckin' furious!" and he punches him in the face. It's only now that I realize the rest of the class isn't out here any more; they must have gone inside. Is class over already?

"Hey! Ben, stop it! It wasn't his fault!" I say meekly, as Ben throws himself at Jack, face deadly.

"STOP!" another voice joins the chorus, and someone is suddenly dragging Ben away from Jack, restraining him. It's Danny! He waits to release my brother until his struggling stops, and he calms down. "What the hell do you think you're doing, DeVough? You just hit a teacher! That means expulsion!" He sounds nervous, excited. "What is going on?"

"He almost killed my sister!" Ben growls, stabbing a finger in my direction. Oh, brother.

"For the last frickin' time, Benny, Jack didn't do anything to me! I wanted to play; how was I supposed to know my medicine wasn't working any more?" I stand, wobbling slightly. Jackson, who's hand was just moments ago fixing his broken nose with his wand, shoots out an arm to steady me. "Thanks."

"Don't touch her, you bastard." Ben says this calmly, but his words are so icy Jack steps away from me, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"Dude, chill out, I was just helping her!"

"Yeah. Right. Come on, Max, we're leaving." Ben grabs my arm, yanking me after him across the grass. It wouldn't be smart for me to apparate, not now, after such a bad attack.

"Hey, wait! Where are you going? Where are you taking her?" Jackson yells after us, sounding panicked.

"Somewhere where you can never hurt her again! Don't try and follow, Davis."

"Stop now, or you're both down thirty points! I said stop!" But Ben doesn't stop, and I don't try and make him; instead, I wave to Jack, trying to give him a reassuring smile. Danny is looking at me, an expression of complete confusion on his perfect face. I give him a special smile, and he, looking just as bemused, gives me a small one back, waving a bit. Oh joyous day!

Now, where the hell are we going?

"Okay, you can let go of me now!" I say a couple blocks later, when his firm grip is starting to get a bit annoying. "I said let me go!" He drops my arm, stopping, breathing uneven. "Where are we going, Ben?"

"England. Right now. Go pack your stuff."

"What?! Now? You don't have enough money! We aren't prepared!" At this he scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"I've had the money for ages now, and the tickets; do you honestly think I wouldn't be prepared for this in case something happened? We're getting you on a private jet out of here tonight. Go on, get packing! I've got a few phone calls to make."

"But what about school?" I ask, rather lamely. "We can't just leave…what about Jessica?" _What about Danny, and Jackson_?

"Jessica will be fine. You, on the other hand, need immediate attention."

"I'm fine now, honestly! You're acting very strange, Ben—"

"You could have died. I won't let that happen again, Max. I'm going to be with you from now on, all the time; nothing can hurt you any more." He gives me a fiercely protective look. Wait…did he say he's going to be with me _all the time_? NOOOOO!

"Ben! Snap out of it, man!" I slap him, not too hard, across the face. He freezes, looking stunned. "Just chill, okay? Chillax. Feel the breeze through your hair, and the grass under your—er—well, my point is, you need to just calm down. Everything is okay now. We can leave if you want, but I'm just asking you to let me say goodbye to Jack first, okay? It would be just…wrong if I didn't."

"You…you slapped me…" he's touching his cheek, uncomprehending.

"Ben, I'm serious—"

"Oh, fine, fine! But don't tell him where we're going, okay?"

"God, you're such a tight-ass. Fine, when can I see him?"

"Call him now. If he wants to come and say bye, fine. If he'd rather finish his classes, that's too bad for him."

I flip out my cell phone, pressing Jack's speed dial. He picks up on the second ring.

"Max?"

"That would be me," I confirm. He sighs in relief.

"Oh, thank God…are you okay? Where are you?"

"My house, and of course I'm fine! Ben would never hurt me. Hey, listen…it's really complicated, but, could you meet me here, in ten minutes? In my room?" There's a long pause.

"It's important?"

"Very."

"I'll be there in three." I flip my phone shut, shoving it back into my pocket, then skip up the stairs to my room and start shoving everything I can fit into my suitcase, which Ben had laid out for me on my bed. I don't pack many clothes; I can go shopping once I'm there. Instead I focus on photos, posters, and some other muggle things I couldn't live without. Then there's a pop, and Jackson appears in front of me, looking confused.

"Wait, so you…you're really leaving? You're _leaving_ me?" He's making it sound like I betrayed him; hurt him on purpose. Tears start to well up in my eyes; I bight my bottom lip, which is trembling. "Oh, don't cry, please don't cry!" He wraps me in a tight embrace, and I cling to him, sobbing into his tee. I usually don't cry. The sobbing is making my lungs hurt again; I try and stop.

"Help me…c-calm down, or else I'll have another f-fit." I say. He brushes some hair out of my eyes, wipes tears from my face with his thumb.

"Shh, shh, it'll be okay. I promise, you're going to be okay. Where are you going?"

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you," I whisper hoarsely.

"Ben?"

"Yeah, Ben. He made me swear it. I keep my promises."

"So do I. And I promise you, Max, that wherever you are going, I will find you some day. Soon. Just…be safe, okay?"

"I will. I'll miss you, Jack. I l-love you." And, because I know it's what he wants, what I might even want, I lean in and kiss him square on the mouth. The kiss isn't long, or hard; just a faint brushing of lips, but with it something changes. Our relationship will never be quite the same.

Queue the angry older bother.

"What the _fuck_! Get off her!" Jackson smiles at me, brushing some hair out of my eyes.

"Good bye. Be safe. And I…I love you too. Always have, always will."

"I know." And with one last cheeky smile he turns, disappearing with a crack.

"What the hell was that about, huh? You _love_ him? How long has this been going on?"

"Once again, calm down. Nothing happened. Nothing. Just…can you leave me alone? For a minute? Please?" I feel like I'm going to start crying again; I'm leaving Jack. Jackson, the boy I've been best friends with since I was in diapers. My Jackson.

"Hurry up. The jet leaves in twenty minutes."

"Go. I'll finish, just leave." And he leaves, and I pack. Once my room is practically empty I shrink my suitcase, stuffing it into my purse, take a deep breath, and leave, closing the door behind me. Down the steps. Into the kitchen.

"Ready?"

"Obviously."

"Well…good. Come on, we're side-alonging it."

"Whatever." I feel empty, completely devoid of emotion. This might be the last time I see this house. This house; my parents raised us in it, died in it. I always thought I would die in it too. Now I guess I'll die in England. Stupid, tea-loving England. I hate tea.

Oh, who am I kidding? The only reason I don't like England is because it's taking me away from Jackson. I'll never have a better friend, I'm positive.

"Well…let's go then." And I grab his hand, and we're off. Off to a land filled with tea and biscuits. And scones. I _hate_ scones.


	3. Follow the Yellow Brick Road

The jet ride seems sooo long. I, having an extremely short attention span, am restless an hour after we leave already.

When we finally get there, it's raining. Not a thunderstorm, either, just an obnoxiously slow, cold drizzle. The sky is grey. I miss thunderstorms.

"Great, this is just the place for someone with lung problems," I say sarcastically, crossing my arms grouchily in front of my chest.

"Exactly. Umm…okay, so I made reservations for us at a hotel for tonight, in London. It's right near the hospital you'll be going to."

"Wow, that's just great, Ben! Thanks!" I scowl.

"You know, it wouldn't hurt to show me some gratitude. It wasn't exactly easy arranging this for you. Okay, grab my hand." We apparate into an alleyway right next to the hotel, so as to not be seen by any muggles. It looks pretty dingy, in my opinion. The hotel, I mean.

"Home sweet hostel," I say without enthusiasm.

The lady sitting at the front desk is very old, with one of those hideous wigs snipped into a messy bob. With bangs. She looks like she could use a serious vacation.

"Hullo, my name is Ms. Malcolm, do you have a reservation?" Her accent sounds so funny to me. I grin for the first time in hours.

"Aye, we do, we do. Jolly good weather, innit? Nice little rain cluds." I say in my own British accent. I sound a bit like a drunk pirate, though, unfortunately. Malcolm gives me a deeply insulted look before turning to my brother.

"Name?" She asks, all signs of friendliness gone. Sheesh, so I guess the British don't have senses of humor.

"DeVough. Benjamin and Maxine."

"Here's your key, you're in room 112. Mind you keep your voices down too, you hear? Don't want a racket wakin' up the other guests, do I? No, I do not." She tosses a key to Ben, who catches it easily thanks to his superb ninja reflexes.

The room is small, and smells like cat pee. Lovely. It has two small little beds with no sheets, no blankets, and no pillows.

"They forgot to get us sheets and pillows." I say to Ben, who's frowning at me.

"No, they didn't. I asked them not to give us any."

" _What_? Why the hell would you do that? You may not mind if you get a neck cramp from sleeping with no head support, but I sure as hell do. Go back down there right now and make them give us some." I'm tempted to stomp my foot, but decide not to just in time.

"Max, the operation they are going to do on you is really expensive. Rooms without pillows, towels, and bedspreads are a lot cheaper than rooms with them. I figure we can just conjure something up for ourselves. That way we're saving money."

"Fine, fine! Make 'em soft, though, or else. When am I getting this operation, anyway?"

"I'm not sure. We're supposed to go in for a consultation tomorrow at noon; I suppose they'll tell us then. How do you feel?"

"Fine. I just…I'm really tired, and I…" I pause.

"You what?"

"Oh, never mind. Thank you for everything, Benny. I love you, really, even if I'm mean to you a lot of the time."

"And you know I love you, Max. That's why I'm doing all this. If you die—" he closes his eyes, and buries his face in his hands, groaning. His blond hair is messy, messier than he ever lets it get. I want to comfort him, to tell him I won't die, and that it'll all be okay.

"Everyone dies, Ben. Don't worry, I'm not gonna give up that easily. You're gonna be stuck with me for a while longer, I'm afraid." I grin.

"Come'ere." He pulls me into a hug, and I finally, finally feel at home. Because home is wherever Ben is. I don't need anything else, as long as I've got my big brother.

I wake up with a hellish neck cramp and throbbing headache. It isn't morning yet; I can tell, because it's still dark outside. Yep, I'm quite the detective.

Ben is still sleeping, the blanket he'd conjured last night hardly big enough to cover all of him. His pillow is on the floor next to the bed; he must have thrown it off by accident or something. I pick it up, fluff it a bit, and stuff it under his head again; he just grumbles, scowls, and turns away from me. I smile affectionately at this behavior; he's so cute when he's sleeping. When he's awake, it's another matter altogether.

Since I'm up, I decide to practice some spellwork. I'm a sixth year, but I'm actually 17; I just turned it a couple weeks ago. Ben is 18; we both started school a bit late, due to our parents' illnesses. Anyway, what this means is that I'm legally allowed to use magic, apparate, etcetera. Yay!

Well, that's my attitude about it until I accidentally set my hair on fire.

"BEN! OH, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, IT BURRRRNS!"

Ben shoots up in bed, stares at me for a second, then sends a stream of water shooting out of his wand, soaking me.

(Wow, that sounded wrong.)

"I won't ask." He says, before lying back down and falling asleep again. I run into the bathroom to check out the damage.

Oooh. Not good. My hair is singed badly on one side; now it looks really uneven. Uneven-er, I should say. Hmmm…awhile ago, back in Washington, I tried out some cool hair-cutting spells; maybe they'll work. I take my wand, concentrating very hard on my hair, and slash it through the air, in a series of complicated swishes and flicks. When I'm finished, I actually don't look half bad, miracle of miracles. I might even look _good_! My hair is now down to my shoulders instead of halfway down my back, and the blonde curls look good layered. I'm a GENIUS! In disguise, of course.

I'm so pleased with my work I decide to go and cut Ben's hair while I'm at it. He's sleeping still, and once he's out, he's out, so it shouldn't be that big of a problem. I sit him up; his neck sort of flops around a bit, but I hold it in place.

Swishy, swishy, flicky, flicky.

And voila! Perfect job, self.

Oh, why thank you!

Any time.

I rest his head back on his pathetic attempt at a pillow, and he goes right on snoring. Now, since my last attempt at magic didn't end so well, I decide to focus on the charms I definitely know. Like the hovering charm. For ten minutes I entertain myself by racing my hairbrush around the room in circles above my head. Hmmm…I wonder…could I make two things fly around at once? I've never really heard of anyone being able to do it, but…

I keep my wand moving around the room, directing the hairbrush, while my wind wanders and focuses in on a book lying on the floor. The hairbrush falls. Damn. I guess I have to focus in on both of them at the same time, which won't be easy, especially for someone with my short attention span. I try again, first getting the hairbrush moving, then trying to split some of my focus up and sending it to the book. I raise my hand in the book's direction, pushing all of my magic out through me. And then, two things happen at once: the book lifts up off the ground, just barely, and the hairbrush sinks lower, but doesn't fall. YESSSS! Success! I guess it makes sense that my magic could be weaker split up like that. I concentrate harder, and focus all of my energy and power out through my hand and wand. The book lifts considerably, and I get it to start flying around the room, right behind the hairbrush. I can feel sweat beading on my forehead, and I'm getting an awful headache from having to split up my energy like that, but I keep them racing, faster and faster.

And then, Ben wakes up. "What are you do—" he notices the hairbrush and book flying around above his head, and his mouth drops. My concentration falters, and both the book and the hairbrush clatter to the ground. All my strength leaves me, and I collapse onto the floor, feeling very dizzy. It's like all the energy has been sucked out of me.

"Max, what in the world is England going to do with you?" I hear Ben ask, right before I fall asleep.

I dream of Jackson, and butterflies, and Sex God Danny playing soccer, and flowers, and…hold it, what is Benny's foot doing over my face? I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to be there!

I wake up coughing and gagging on a certain disgusting stench, and sit up quickly. Ben lifts his foot away triumphantly.

"Ha! I knew that'd wake you up!" He says proudly. I just glare at him.

"Anyone who's smug about having the most disgusting-smelling feet in Washington has some serious issues." I say.

"Well, we're not in Washington anymore, Maxi!"

Woah. "WHAT? Oh…wait…riiiiight, it's all coming back to me now…something about a brother forcing me to fly halfway across the world to some remote town in some remote country in some remote little continent."

"If by 'remote town' you mean London, by 'remote country' you mean England, and by 'remote little continent,' you mean all of Europe, then yes, you would be correct."

Pfft. Smarty-pants.

"Europe can't be that big. What's it have, like twelve countries or something? Wait, or was it seven…"

Ben just stares at me, mouth open.

Stare.

Stare.

"Well, Max, if by 'seven' you really mean 'almost fifty,' then yes you would be—"

"Okay, okay! Sheesh!" I snap. "What's for breakfast?"

"I brought you up some scones and biscuits, leftover from yesterday's tea. I got them for free; they were about to throw them out," Ben says proudly.

I glare distrustfully at the plate of crusty-looking pastries Ben is holding out to me. "As much as I wish I could eat moldy, day-old bread, I think I'll have to pass. I'm suddenly feeling really sick." My stomach grumbles loudly. Gosh! Play along, why don't you! My own body betraying me…what a surprise.

Ben just scoffs.

"Fine, then. Your appointment with the hospital is in half an hour, so if you're not hungry, you'd better get ready. Dress nicely; you want to make a good impression. Oh…and did you do something with your hair? It looks…nice."

I just stare at him. I chopped at least four inches off, and he's asking if I did something with my hair? Sheesh. Boys.

"No, I did nothing with my hair. But I did do something with yours!" I say, before racing into the bathroom and locking the door.

"MAAAX! GET OUT HERE RIGHT THIS MINUTE!" He tries to come in. I shriek, laughing.

"I'm changing! Leave me alone, you perv!" Grumbling madly, he storms off. There's no mirror out there; he'll have to wait till I'm done to see his new do. Heheh.

I change into a nice pare of jeans and my favorite pink hoodie. It's the only pink article of clothing that I own; I got it when I was about twelve or something. I comb my hair out, put on so much make-up I can hardly see anything underneath it all, and am ready to roll. The second I step outside, Ben's mouth falls open, gaping at me.

"What did you do to your face?"

"It's called make-up, brother dearest." I try and walk past him, but he blocks me.

"Yes, I KNOW it's make-up. What I meant was, WHY are you wearing make-up; it makes you look twice your age. And like a hooker." I scowl, hurt. My own brother, questioning my morality.

"Well, Ben, it took you long enough to realize the fact that I've been having sex for money since the age of seven." I say.

"Not funny. Now come on, we gotta go." We leave the hotel; on the way out I wave to the lady at the front desk, winking. She glares at me.

Well, then.

The "hospital" Ben said I'll be going to looks suspiciously like an out-of-date clothing store. I entertain myself by making faces at the dummies in the window until we can finally enter. And…oh, my god.

Fifty-percent-off-sale on summer swimwear! Score!

Haha, just kidding. The hospital is huge. Immediately we are chauffeured over to a line, where we then wait until some lady with a weird-looking hat-thingy asks us what we're here for.

"Maxine DeVough, for a consultation. My name's Benjamin DeVough."

"Of course. Follow the yellow brick road, and you'll get where you want to go."

Umm…so I guess I was wrong. About the British not having senses of humor, I mean. Either that, or they're all just crazy. But—holy crap, there's the yellow road she speaks of! Right there, below my feet, leading upwards! Maybe they have these to make sure visitors don't get lost. Everyone knows Americans can't follow verbal directions, after all. Pfft.

"I just have one question then, Ma'am." I say politely. "If quizzes are quizzical, then what are tests?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I wouldn't ask, but it seems that Ben has been having some trouble with his—"

"We're going now! Thank you for your help!" Ben drags me away, blushing furiously. "What the hell was that for? What have I ever done to you?"

"Well, besides dragging me away from my school, my friends, and my future husband, not to mention my _continent_ , nothing."

He folds his arms crossly in front of his chest, and raises an eyebrow threateningly at me.

"And you are the bestest brother in the world, and I love you."

"Good answer."

"Thanks."

And, off we go. Following a yellow brick road.

A/N: Next chapter Max will meet James! I've decided to at least submit enough chapters for you to see the couple in action. Thanks for reading!


	4. Awkward Conversations

Our consultation is with a woman who calls herself 'Mrs. Potter.' She has auburn hair streaked with a generous amount of silver, and friendly chocolate-brown eyes.

"So, in this appointment we will be discussing the treatment for your…illness. Is there anything you care to add to your medical chart? Have you had any attacks recently? You look pale."

"Oh, that's not from the attack. I was just…experimenting with my magic before we came. Watch; it's pretty frickin sweet!" I take out my wand, and with a flick begin moving a quill around the room. Then, I outstretch my left hand, while still focusing my eyes on my right hand, and raise Mrs. Potter's inkwell up as well. It's easier than it was the first time; I don't feel nearly as drained as I had before. After placing both of the objects back on the desk, I collapse into a chair, smiling contentedly.

"You can—that is quite remarkable, Miss DeVough! Bravo! You will do well at Hogwarts. You know, I have a son your age who also goes there; his name is James. He's actually coming in later today to help me with some paperwork. He would quite like you, I think." She smiles kindly at me.

"Yeah, well." I'm not sure I really want to make new friends here. For the sake of Jackson and our friendship. I don't want to forget him.

"Max had an attack shortly before we came here to England. She was hit in the chest by a soccer ball, thanks to that unbelievable oaf J—"

"I'm fine though." I say firmly.

"No, you're not!" Ben argues. "Mrs. Potter, you read over her history, right? Any more attacks could seriously damage her lungs. Possibly permanently. And the medicine she usually takes hasn't been working."

"Well, there are several operations that can be done to try and calm her fits; I am afraid, though, that she may never be completely cured. Especially if this is hereditary, which at this point seems very likely. The first option is to cut a small piece out of her ribs, just above her heart, to give her lungs more room to expand. This operation would only serve to lessen the pain of attacks, though, not eradicate it. The second option is to cut a small opening in her left lung, and insert a tube there, which would then run up through her throat and out of her nasal passages, making it easier for her to breathe."

" _Hell_ no!" I say, clutching my nose protectively. "Is there any operation that _doesn't_ involve slicing me up?"

"Yes, as a matter-of-fact. The third, and probably easiest solution, is actually based on a muggle remedy. Have you ever heard of Asthma?"

"Duhhh. Do you really think my parents wouldn't have thought of that? I don't have Asthma, I promise you."

"I'm not saying you do; but there is something, called an inhaler, that could help with your attacks. It couldn't prevent them; just make the attacks less severe, and painful. Would you be interested in that? It is also the cheapest option. Of course, this would only be a temporary solution to your problem; eventually, you will have to have some sort of operation."

"Fine. Let's see it, then." I say expectantly. Mrs. Potter holds out a small, tube-shaped thing, apparently hollow. I frown, and take it, examining it closely. "How exactly do I use it?"

"Here, let me show you." She takes the thing back, and clears her throat. "Well, Maxine—"

"Max," I correct immediately.

"Max, then-this inhaler is known as a metered-dose inhaler. Your medication will be stored in pressurized canister, which is attached to a plastic actuator." She motions to the long plastic part of the inhaler. "Now here's how it works: first, you take off the cap and hold the inhaler upright." She demonstrates for me. "Next, you want to shake the inhaler. Stick this part of it in your mouth like this, and press down on the inhaler to release the medicine, breathing in slowly. Keep breathing slowly for about five seconds. Hold your breath for ten seconds, to let the medicine get into your lungs. You can do this over again if you need to; just make sure you wait about a minute before you try. Do you understand?"

"I think…do I use this everyday, or only when I have attacks?"

"This specific inhaler is only for attacks. There are ones that can be used for everyday, but I figured you wouldn't want to carry one around with you twenty-four-seven."

"Boy, were you right about that. Well, everything looks just fine and dandy, I think! Can I go now?" I stand, stretching. Ben does too.

"How about you leave Mrs. Potter and I alone for a couple of minutes? I have some more questions to ask. You can wait out in the main lobby, right?"

I'm out of there soooo quickly. I stroll, whistling, through the halls. I notice there's no yellow-brick road this time.

However, there _is_ a young man, with black hair. Very messy black hair.

"Hey, you! You, with the funny hair!" I call out, hoping for directions. He looks over at me, eyebrows raised. I inhale a quick breath; he's gorgeous. "Show me where the main lobby is." I command. He chuckles.

"A Yankee." He says, walking over to me. "What's your name?"

"Max. Now where's the lobby?" I'm starting to get annoyed with this guy.

"Max? Isn't that sort of a _guy's_ name?"

That's it. He's really asking for it.

"Listen, you little—"

"James! Oh, good, I see you've met Maxine!"

Oh, hello there, Mrs. Potter. And Ben. I try to take deep breaths.

"Are you okay, Max? You look really flushed now…"

I could really _kill_ Ben right now. James smirks at me.

"He," I stab my finger in James's direction, "Called me a _boy_."

"I did not! I was just pointing out that the name 'Max' is distinctly more masculine than—"

"Shut up! I AM NOT A BOY! I have BOOBS, see?" I gesture towards my chest. "Just because they're not as big as _yours_ …" My chest is fairly small; there's nothing that special about it. But it's there. Yup, it is definitely there. And this—this _jerk_ thinks he has the right to question that? Pfft. I'll show him. I grab my wand and cast a spell in his direction. He's so surprised he doesn't have time to block it; soon, he's growing two watermelon-sized breasts, which are stretching the cloth of his grey sweatshirt. We all watch in mild disgust as they grow larger and larger, eventually encompassing his whole head. We can hear James's muffled yells.

"I suppose I should cast the counter-spell before he suffocates," Mrs. Potter says, watching James stumble around and trying not to fall face forwards due to the two heavy loads he was now carrying.

"Eh. Whatever. I'm outta here, though. And James, when people told you to 'grow a pair', I don't think they were referring to a pair of _boobs_. Just thought I should let you know. Hasta la vista, baby."

I think I hear a muffled string of swearwords before we leave, but I can't quite be sure.

"You are really the most immature, antagonizing, and obnoxious girl I have ever heard of."

"I'll take that as a backhanded compliment."

"You really shouldn't."

"Pfft."

Outside the sun is, where else, hiding behind a thin layer of grey clouds. It's so dreary out here I'm tempted to run back inside. At least I'd have the enjoyment of watching James choke on his own boobs then. Holy crap, that sounded weird. And more than a little bit disturbing.

"What are you thinking about, Max?"

"Huh? Oh. Boobs."

"Ah."

Awkward silence. These conversations never end well.

Finally, Ben clears his throat.

"Why are you thinking about boobs?"

"Well, you see, besides being a prostitute since the age of seven, I am also a part-time lesbian." I say seriously.

"Haha, very funny. That was really rude, what you did to that Potter kid. You're lucky you weren't arrested."

"Pssh. They wouldn't arrest me; it was too good of a spell. It took me years to perfect it!" Oops. This is one of those times when my mouth should have stayed safely _shut_.

"How long have you known it for?" Ben asks angrily, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to glare at me.

"Oh, I don't know…awhile. The engorgement charm isn't that tricky to learn."

I guess he decides he doesn't want to hear anymore, and we keep on walking. Into the hotel, up the stairs, and into our crappy little room. I'm slightly out of breath by the time we reach the top; I really need to get into shape.

"Say, Ben…since we have that new insaler thingy—"

"In _ha_ ler." He corrects.

"Whatever—since I have that new inhaler thingy, can I please start playing sports again? Pleeeease?"

"Absolutely not."

" _What_? What do you mean, 'absolutely not?'"

"I mean, 'ABSOLUTELY. NOT. As in, there in no way in hell that I am going to let you risk your health like that. Sorry." He doesn't sound sorry.

"Look at me, Ben! I am getting fat and lazy; soon I will be like the Pillsbury dough boy, and people will poke me because I'm thick and squishy! Do you want a white pastry for a sister?"

"You're insane. Completely insane!" Ben laughs. "You are not getting fat! In fact, you are too thin; you could stand to gain twenty pounds."

"Ummmm…actually, Ben, twenty more pounds and I'll be OBESE. As in O to the B to the ESE! If it sounds better in cheer-form."

"That is rude and totally WRONG. What are you, a hundred pounds?"

"The last time I weighed a hundred pounds I was thirteen years old."

"Whatever. I can't believe we are having this conversation. You are not going to play a sport. End of discussion."

"Ergghhh!" I growl, and fling myself onto my bed, burying my head in a pillow and screaming out my frustration.

I am so athletic; sports are like a _part_ of me. If Ben takes them away from me, I'll be miserable. At least back in Washington I had gym class.

"Please, Ben, please! You took everything else away from me; please let me have my sports. I don't care what I do…just let me run, let me _fly_!" I'm crying now, trying to imagine my life without running in it. I love to run, always have. Until Ben banned me from it. That was about two years ago; since then, though, I'd at least gotten to jog around the grounds with Jackson once in a while. Now I have nothing. I let out a shallow sob, and race past my brother. I know it's not a good idea; but it just feels so good to _run_! I fly down the steps, Ben calling after me, and out the front door of the hotel.

It feels amazing to stretch my legs like this; the soreness in my lungs doesn't even bother me. At first. But then, the farther away I get, the less I can breathe. I am such an _idiot_! I stop, trying to catch my breath. Why didn't I think of bringing my inhaler with me? I'm gasping; passersbys look worriedly at me; a few ask if I need any help. I shake my head. But then I spot him up ahead; James, flat-chested again. He's not facing me, but that hair is recognizable anywhere. I get myself to him, and try to call his name, but all that comes out is a sort of wheezing cough. He turns though, and his eyes widen as he recognizes me. I clutch my throat, feeling the air being sucked out of me. I choke and gasp, but nothing helps.

I feel James catching me before I hit the pavement, and then everything goes black.

I wake up dizzy, disoriented, and oddly warm. There are blankets wrapped around me, which explains the heat, but…where am I? I try and sit up, but a hand shoots out and stops me. I look at that hand; it's unfamiliar. It's a young hand, bigger than mine, with smooth skin and long, slender fingers. The largeness of it suggests that it belongs to a man. I follow the hand with my eyes, up to the wrist, the arm, the slight bend of the elbow, and finally to the face. My eyes are blurred form sleep; I blink, trying to clear them. A young man with messy black hair and bright hazel eyes stares back at me, concerned. A second later my brain lets me know that I actually know this person; James Potter. I test the name out on my tongue. It rolls off it, breaking the silence.

"Yes?" James asks. I blink, surprised. Did I ask a question? "You said my name; what do you want?" Oh. I open my mouth, trying to form words.

"Ben…" An understanding look crosses his face; he nods.

"He's here. He's sleeping in another room. You're at my house."

His…house? I'm so confused…I'm about to ask what happened to me when he answers.

"You had a sort of fit…I took you to my mum, and she apparated us home. I'm not technically allowed to yet. Apparate, I mean. I'll be seventeen in a couple months, though." I nod, understanding.

"Thank you," I whisper hoarsely. Whatever James had expected, it obviously wasn't this. After a moment of staring at me, he responds.

"You're welcome. Do you want me to go get your brother for you?"

"No!" I say quickly. "Let him sleep. Can I have some water?" I'm starting to really return to consciousness, finally. He jumps up, and hurries out of the room. Shortly after, he's back with a tall glass of ice water and some toast and soup. He helps me sit up, then hands me the water. My hands are shaking; he has to help me hold the cup so that I don't spill its contents all over myself. His hand touches mine. My breath catches in my chest.

It's embarrassing as hell when he has to help spoon-feed me my soup; my face flushes, and not attractively either. Some people can flush and make it look attractive, like redheads. When _I_ blush I just look like a giant red tomato.

"There you go. Better?" he asks once I'm done with the soup. I nod, not looking at him. He's about to leave the room, dirty dishes in hand, when I stop him, clearing my throat.

"James…look, I'm really sorry about what I did to you earlier. You didn't deserve it. I was…I was wrong." I hate admitting it to people when I'm wrong. _Hate_ it.

"No problem." He shrugs, grinning. "I would've done the same thing." And then, he leaves, and I am left very confused. Because there is a very good chance that I have a crush on James Potter. Who I just met today. And who looks like he stuck a fork in an electric socket and held on.

Ohhh, boy.

A/N: Well, now we are caught up to where Max and James meet. Next chapter will be posted on Thursday, May 19. Here's a sneak peek:

 _"Hey mum, do you mind if Remus comes over for dinner?" I look up; James is standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a casual sort of elegance. Our eyes meet; I feel a slow blush creep up my cheeks. My heart stutters. Mrs. Potter gives a small intake of breath, looks at me, and then looks at James, a slow smile spreading across her face._

Max is very confused about her feelings for a certain messy-haired Marauder.


	5. Addiction

A/N: Decided to update early :) Thanks for all of the reads, everyone!

The next couple of hours are very boring. More than anything I just want to talk to Jackson right now; I need to hear his voice, hear him telling me it's all gonna be okay. I miss him so much that it's like a physical pain in my chest. I wonder how people communicate here…back in Washington we just used our Patronuses. I don't even see any type of phone in this house; in fact, I don't see anything even remotely electrical. Where the hell is their TV?

"Are you ready for your check-up?" Mrs. Potter comes in, closely followed by Ben, who looks anxious and tired.

"Yup," I shrug. "Whatever." She then proceeds to make sure my heart is beating normally, listen to my lungs and breathing, all that good stuff. I'm perfectly fine, except for some minor flutters of my heart. And who knows what those are all about.

"Your heart isn't beating in the usual pattern…are you relaxed?"

"Yes." Kind of.

"Are you thinking calming thoughts? You know, thinking of…erm…romance can sometimes speed one's heart…"

"Trust me, I wasn't thinking any romantic thoughts until you said something just now. You wanna feel my heart when I'm thinking of 'that special someone?'" I ask sarcastically. I start thinking of Danny first, expecting to feel all fluttery like I used to. Nope. Now Jackson; this only gives me an uncomfortable, sick sort of feeling in my stomach. I miss him so much. Hmm…maybe I really don't have anyone right now who could make my heart go all spastic…

"Hey mum, do you mind if Remus comes over tonight for dinner?" I look up; James is standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a casual sort of elegance. Our eyes meet; I feel a slow blush creep up my cheeks. My heart stutters. Mrs. Potter gives a small intake of breath, looks at me, and then looks at James, a slow smile spreading across her face.

"Of course, Remus is always welcomed here, you know that. Tell him his family is all invited as well; lovely people, the Lupins." She smiles fondly. "James, dear, would you do me a favor and show Max where the bathroom is? I'm sure she'd like to get cleaned up."

Sneaky, sneaky woman. Trying to get James and I alone together. I _do_ really feel like taking a nice, long, very hot shower right now, though. I stand, swaying a little, and follow James, who leads me down the hall and to a room on the right. It's huge!

"Holy shit on a—I mean, gosh darn, this room is large!" I quickly correct myself. He grins.

"There's some clothes for you in that drawer. And here's a towel." He hands me a large white towel, looking awkwardly at the floor. "If you need anything, feel free to—"

"Actually, I do need something." I say seriously. He looks at me, surprised. "How do you guys talk to each other, huh? I mean, you must write to your friends who live far away from you…do you use your Patronuses, or what?"

"We use owls," he says, confused. "Why?"

"Can I borrow yours? Please?"

"Sure…let me just go and—"

"You can't tell _anyone_ , okay? Especially not Ben. Please." I'm looking desperately at him. I've only just realized that we're standing very close. Too close. I think about stepping away, but decide against it.

"Sure," he shrugs, looking unconcerned. "Nobody has to find out. But why all the secrecy? What are you hiding?"

"It's not a 'what,' it's a 'who.'" I say softly. So softly that at first I think he doesn't hear me.

"Oh. I see."

"Yeah." Awwwwkward. Ahem. "Thanks…can you help me, then? I've never even _seen_ an owl, much less used one to send a letter to someone." I feel weird asking for his help.

"Yeah, cool."

"…Cool."

He shuffles out of the bathroom, and I lock the door behind him. I slowly undress, not really thinking about anything at all, then wash up. I take an amazingly long, hot, and soapy shower that makes me feel tired all over again. I'm so relaxed by the time I'm done that I feel at peace with the world. Which, you should know, is a big deal since I almost never feel that way.

I comb through my hair until it shines, and change into a green t-shirt and some fraying jean shorts. I look in the full-length mirror, examining myself critically. I'm definitely not ugly, but I'm not beautiful either. I was always the 'cute' one; the one with the flowing blond hair and round green eyes, the one who was shorter than everybody else in her class and always seemed too small for the clothes she wore. Somewhere between fourth and fifth year, though, I changed. I got taller, and curvier, and I starter actually caring about the way I looked. My parents used to always tell me how pretty I was. I look just like my mom used to.

Some people confuse me for being really pretty, just because all my features are in the right places, and there are no major flaws with my face. But if they look closer, they'll probably realize that my nose is just a bit too long, my eyes just a smudge too far-set. My teeth are white and straight, thanks to four years of having to wear braces on them; but I have a slight overbite, and my lips are just a bit too round, like a child's.

The point that I am trying to make is that there are, like, billions of girls who are probably way better looking than I am for guys to choose from. And a guy like James probably has at least three girlfriends already. So basically, I have no hope. Ah, well.

"Are you done in there? Hurry up!" Ben's voice filters through the door, waking me from me reverie.

"Yeah, just a sec." I take one last look at myself, take a deep breath, and open the door. Ben is standing out in the hallway, looking grumpy.

"You better not have used up all the hot water, or else you are SOO going down." He threatens. I just snort at this, and push past him. I'm not really sure where James's room is, but I guess I'll find out soon enough. I peek my head into every room I pass. Eventually I find him; he's lying on his bed, reading a magazine that looks suspiciously inappropriate. I clear my throat, and he jumps, stuffing the magazine out of sight.

"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" He asks crossly. I raise my eyebrows, ignoring him, and come into his room, closing the door behind me. I go over and sit on his bed beside him, crossing my arms and glaring at him.

"Well?" I ask expectantly.

"Well, what?"

"Where's this owl you said you have?"

"Oh, she's over there. Her name is Mindy. Careful, she pecks."

"Pfft. Animals love me." I stand, and walk over to her cage. Mindy is huge, with golden feathers and large, amber eyes. I coo at her, reaching in to stroke her feathers. I open up the cage, and she hops onto my shoulder, nipping affectionately at my earlobe. James just stares, looking impressed.

"Wow…the only person she's ever reacted to so well was me…here, bring her here and I'll show you how to send a letter." I walk over to James and sit down beside him again. Mindy hops down from her perch on my shoulder and goes to sit on James's lap, where he goes on to pet her and stroke her feathers. "Okay, so first you have to write your letter. Here's some parchment for that," he says, handing me a small scroll of parchment. I take it curiously, unfurling it and staring at the large expanse of off-whiteness. "You write your letter, and then you roll it up, and take a piece of cord," he holds up a long piece of cord, "and tie the letter to the owl's leg. Mindy prefers her letters to be on her left foot, but every owl is different. Here, let me show you," he says, taking my hand and guiding it to Mindy's left claw. She raises it obligingly, hooting importantly. "Take the cord," James continues guiding my hand through the steps, showing the exact way to tie the string and position the scroll so that it won't interfere with her flying.

"Can't she just carry it in her talons, though? Why go to all of this trouble?"

"She can carry the letters that way, but it's just easier for her to have it tied to her. Especially on longer flights; that way she can use both of her claws to hunt and balance while she's flying."

"Oh." I look down at Mindy; she's pecking at James's shirt; he doesn't seem to notice. I look up to James; he's watching me, an odd look in his eyes, almost like he's pained about something. "Are you okay?" I ask, concerned. He nods, sighing.

"I'm just curious…mum didn't really tell me what's wrong with you. Something about confidentiality. So…what _is_ wrong with you, huh?"

"Oh, nothing really. I just have weak lungs. I'll be fine."

"Oh. Where are your parents; shouldn't they be with you if you're ill?" He says this so concernedly, so innocently; he must not know yet. Well, I'm not going to be the one to tell him.

"They're away a lot. I don't want to bother them," I lie dully, not looking at James. "Ben has always been the one to take care of me."

"He seems nice."

"Yup."

Well, that basically cut our conversation right in half. We sit there awkwardly for another couple minutes, and then I stand, the parchment, quill, and cord in hand.

"Thanks," I mutter, before shuffling out of the room. I think he says, 'No problem,' but I'm not quite sure.

Dear Jackson,

I miss you so much. These last couple of days have been really hard on us; I had another attack once we got here. Don't worry, though, I'm fine now. James, this boy I met, saved me; his mom is a nurse. I'm at their house right now, but I'm not really sure where exactly that is, now that I think about it.

Ben doesn't want me to write to you. But I don't care; you are the only thing that keeps me from just up and killing myself. I mean I'm going to die anyway, why not speed up the process? Part of me thinks that Ben would be better off that way. He's had to worry about me so much, and for so long that I think it might come as a relief to him. Sorry if I sound a bit crazyl; I'm just really confused and upset. I miss you; I want to go home.

Love,

Max

That's the letter I write first. Of course I won't send it. Jackson would totally freak out, and probably do something really stupid. Instead, I write a second, much warmer one.

Dear Jackson,

How are you? How's G-WAM? I miss Washington sooo much; you have no idea. But it's cool here; I'm getting used to it at any rate. I even made a friend the other day; his name is James. God, though, I miss you so much. Ben is being a friggin pig and not letting me play any sports, like usual; also, I don't think he wants me writing to you, so try and keep this little exchange pretty hush-hush if you can. I can't write that long of letters, but I'll try and keep you informed if anything major happens.

How are my friends? Tell them I miss them a lot, okay? And say hi to Mr. Claire from me; tell him I hope he and his hubby can have that kid they've been hoping for. Okay? Thanks. And most of all, know that I miss you a lot, and even though I can't tell you where I am, that I hope that you can find me some day. I feel like there's a part of me that's missing without you. I know that sounds cheesy and cliché, but there's really no other way to describe how I feel right now. So please hurry and find me, okay?

And finally, I love you, and I miss you, and I just wanna cuddle with you like we used to; watching Saturday Night Live together, eating popcorn and picking the marshmallows out of the Lucky Charms box, and making fun of lame-ass celebrities and their bad hair days. I miss that so much.

All my love,

Max

PS. Can you believe they send letters via owl here? God, what is this, the seventeen-hundreds?

After reading over this a few more times, I roll it up, walk back to James's room, and tie it to Mindy's leg. James isn't here; I wonder where he went?

"Take this to Jackson Davis, in Washington, okay? Take your time. Don't overwork yourself," I whisper to the owl. It clucks impatiently, and with one last nip to my earlobe, flies off, my letter attached firmly to its left leg. I watch it fly off into the sun, and sigh deeply. Then I turn around and head back to my room.

Where James is, apparently.

"What are you doing in here?" I ask harshly; he jumps up, trying to hide something behind his back. But it's too late. "You READ my PRIVATE LETTER?" I screech, diving at him and tackling him to the floor, trying to wrestle it out of his grip. He puts up an admittedly good effort, but I have my age, and therefore my ability to use magic outside of school, on my side.

"Accio letter!" I say, and the thing flies right into my hands. We're both sitting on the floor, breathing heavily. "How could you, James?" I ask, feeling betrayed, and then I run from him. Until I remember that I'm not supposed to run, and start walking again, hot tears sliding down my face in humiliation. That letter was never supposed to have been read. Never. And Now James knew what it said. He probably thinks I'm some sort of suicidal maniac now.

I storm into the kitchen, angrier than I have been in awhile. It's empty. Where the hell is everybody?

"Max, please…I didn't mean to—"

"Forget it." I say dully. "It's nothing. It doesn't matter any more."

"What?" he looks taken aback by this sudden change of attitude. He comes closer.

"I mean it's not like you wouldn't have found out eventually. I'm depressed, James. My parents are d—never home, I'm a constant burden to Ben, and my best friend in the whole world is back in Washington. How do you expect me to feel? I'm not that brave, you know. In fact, I'm the biggest coward—you have no freakin idea—" I'm sobbing, great shuddering cries that wrack my body. In two steps James is in front of me; he pulls me to him, and I cry into him, holding onto him like he's the only thing keeping me here, keeping me from flying away. And this reminds me of Jackson, and when we last said goodbye, and this makes me cry harder still, until my throat is raw and aching, and my lungs feel like they're about to explode.

"Inhaler!" I gasp eventually. James, looking alarmed, rushes to my room, grabs the inhaler, and races back to me. I inhale; the medicine tastes disgusting, but it helps almost immediately. "Thanks." I say after I'm done. "I'm sorry about that; I don't know why—"

"Don't sweat it." James grins. I notice his shirt is all wet, and feel a tidal wave of embarrassment wash over me. I'm tempted to laugh at the situation, but don't. "It's not often that a guy gets the chance to have a hot girl crying all over him." He laughs; his laugh is pure male, dark and sarcastic, and yet honest at the same time. Or something like that, anyway. I'm about to respond when there's a knock on the door. I jump, startled. "Hey, can you get that? It's Remus. I need to quick do something."

"O-okay…" I say nervously, and head to the door. My face is still wet with tears. I open the door.

"Oh, hello there." Remus says, looking surprised. "You must be Max. Nice to meet you." He reaches out to shake my hand. Afterwards I let him in, and explain that James will be back shortly. "Umm, I know it really isn't my place to ask, but are you alright?" He looks so concerned, this boy who I just met. Concerned for me. I grin.

"Don't worry, I'm good. In fact, I'm excellent. But poor James—he had to endure about twenty minutes of me slobbering and sniffling all over him. I feel bad now." I run a hand through my hair.

"Nah, you don't have to feel bad. I'm surprised that he let you, though. He must me making progress."

"Progress?"

"You know; curing himself of his addiction."

"Addiction?" I knew James was too good to be true. Damn. I wonder what it is—pot, meth, alcohol-

"Yeah. His addiction to Lily Evans."

Double-damn.

"Oh, hey Remus. I see you've met Max." James himself enters the room, his hair ruffled and disheveled as usual. "Were you two having a nice little chat, then?"

"Ohhhh, yeah." I mutter under my breath.


	6. The Plan

Unlike the first time I met James, Remus and I are practically best friends by dinner. Which, by the way, is an extremely awkward affair. I'm stuck in between Ben and Mr. Potter. I don't know him that well; all I know is that he's very tall, dark, and stern-looking. He has these sharp, extremely blue eyes that make me feel like I'm three feet tall. I think he's said one word to me since I got here. Remus and James sit across the table from me, looking greedily at the dinner in front of us. Which is why it surprises me when they don't eat like complete and total pigs. They use silverware, and napkins, and even *gasp* chew with their mouths closed. When we're finished, James offers to clear the table and wash the dishes. I look at this in wonder; are they really this polite to their families?

I remember when my parents were alive, and we used to eat together. They were really polite too, my parents. Ben and I, on the other hand, were…well, not. At all. I look over at my brother; he's staring moodily at his plate, no doubt reminiscing, like I am. Our eyes meet; mine are kind of wet. Stupid, betraying tear ducts.

"Are you alright, Max?" I look up to see Remus looking questioningly at me. James comes into the room, soap suds on his dripping hands.

"What's wrong?" he asks, looking directly at me.

"Nothing." I shrug. "It's just that…well, you're so… _help_ ful." James laughs, looking surprised.

"Yeah, I guess." He shrugs. "I mean, I never really thought about it that way. I'm sure you were helpful with chores before your parents left, too." He says this meaning to be kind, but it makes me cringe, and feel veerrrry guilty. I knew there was a reason I should have done the dishes more when I was little.

"Yeah." I choke out, before standing and walking quickly to my room, trying not to cry. I can hear raised voices in the dining room, and then silence. I close and lock the door to my room, and collapse on the bed, tears falling freely down my face and into my hair.

A few minutes later, there's a knock on the door.

"Go away!" I cry, but my voice is muffled from the pillow I'm crying into. I don't think they hear me, because the door clicks open, presumably by magic, and in walks, oh goody, James.

"Max, why did you lie to me?" he asks, frowning. "Didn't you trust me?"

"Aren't you, like, not supposed to use magic yet?"

He just looks at me, eyebrows raised expectantly.

"I'm s-sorry." I cave, wiping my eyes and sitting up. He comes to sit beside me, and hands me some tissues to wipe my eyes and nose off with. "I hate talking about them, it's just so h-hard for me…" I know he knows who I am talking about.

"You are forgiven." He says, smiling at me. I freeze, looking at him in wonder. In all my life, I have never been told 'you are forgiven.' Maybe, 'say you're sorry and maybe I won't stab your eyeballs out with a sharpie,' but never this. This strikes me as funny for some reason, and I smile too. "Tell me about them; what were they like?" He sounds honestly curious, like he really cares, and for the next hour I tell him everything I can remember about my parents. Except for how they died.

That bit of information will stay with me to the grave.

"I'd ask what you two were doing in there for an hour, but something tells me I really don't want to know." This is the greeting we get as we exit my room, James looking relatively pleased with himself, and me feeling a little better about everything.

"Good call, Remus." I nod, winking. I hate when people wink; it's the most cliché and totally unbearable gesture anyone can make.

Which is, naturally, why I do it as much as I can.

Not that you care, and this is totally random, but here is a list of some other things that I can't stand:

1\. Those fake Christmas trees with the spray-painted on snow and giant plastic Santa Clause heads on them  
2\. People who start decorating for Christmas before Thanksgiving. Christ, people, chill out. Honestly.  
3\. Those really cheesy Halloween decorations people put out in their yards, like the plastic clowns (which have approximately a 0 in the scare-factor, by the way)  
4\. When people do "quotes" in the air with their fingers.  
5\. When a cereal box tells you there is going to be a prize inside, and then you find out you actually have to send in fifteen dollars to get the little plastic piece of crap. All that excitement for nothing; it's enough to traumatize a kid.  
6\. Regular white mint chocolate chip ice cream; green is definitely the only way I like it.  
7\. When you have crushes on hot guys who are totally unavailable, but when they finally do become available you stop liking them  
8\. People who are just too gosh darn hot for their own good

Which brings me back to James, naturally. He's not the conventional kind of hot, but he's definitely got the whole just-rolled-out-of-bed-with-you look going for him. Messy hair, tired eyes, small smile. He seems totally cool with everything and everyone, like the kind of person who would never beg, but isn't too proud to climb trees or watch old kid movies.

Of course, he doesn't even know what a movie is, so that's a bad example. But still.

Anyway, this is why I am totally blown away when Remus mentions Lily in front of James. His whole face melts together, into a look too disgusting to even try and describe. And while my explanation will certainly not express the terrifyingness of the smile he is smiling, or the way his eyes are all bright and excited, it will at least show you a little bit of what I am seeing now. I am seeing James's mouth spread into a huge, dreamy smile; I am seeing James's cheeks grow flushed; I am seeing James's hair standing up to attention, almost as if in anticipation.

And this is only after Remus said, "Your mom has some nice lilies out front."

Oh, _lord_.

"Snap out of it!" I screech, slapping him across the face. He shakes his head, looking dazed.

"Oh, hello there!" He says, smiling loopily at me. The look on my face must sober him up quite a bit, because soon he's apologizing, and looking embarrassed. "If the mention of the _flower_ lily can send you into an orgasmic state, I don't even want to know how you are around the _girl_ one." I shutter, trying not to picture it.

"You'll love her. Everyone does." He says, but his smile is fainter now, like he's remembering something painful. "Of course, _she_ doesn't return the favor…at least not to me…"

"How very touching." I say callously.

"For the past six years I've been begging and begging her to go steady with me; she always refuses. She hates me." Oh, great, now he's getting all depressed. This guy has more hormones in him than a menopausal woman on steroids. And trust me, that's saying something, since I had plenty of teachers like that back at G-WAM. I _know_.

"First of all, who the hell says 'go steady with' anymore, and second of all: So you're just going to give up?" I ask. Both he and Remus look up, startled by my response. "You're going to let that bitch bitch-slap you around until you're blue in the balls, and then GIVE UP?" I'm practically shouting by the end of this very weird, very disturbing little speech. If only my parents could hear me and my rad new public speaking skills now… sheesh. I'm hopeless.

"Well what do you suggest I do?" James asks, a bit defensively. I think for a minute, and then shrug.

"Wwweeelllllll, James…you'll do what any backstabbing, manipulating little wannabe boyfriend or girlfriend would do in a position like this…you'll make her jealous."

"Ahh. And how might I do that?"

"Think hard, James, think really hard."

"Hard…" a far-off look crosses his face. Ew, _gross_!

"Not that kind of hard, you perv! I mean, the answer to all of your questions is right in front of you." James looks over at Remus, who's beside me.

"You want me to make Lily jealous by using _Remus_? And how exactly would that work; I'm not going to kiss him, if that's what you're—"

"ME, JAMES. You are going to make your little flower girl jealous by using ME."

"Oh. Oh, okay then."

Sheesh, I should be getting paid for this.

Over a week and a half has gone by, and I haven't had a single attack. Ben seems to be in a very good mood because of this, and is no longer scowling at everything in his path anymore. Hogwarts starts after G-WAM does, so…in exactly two days. James and I have been planning constantly since our little meeting with Remus; you know, the one where I gave my awesome speech about blueness and bitch-slapping and all that crap.

Here is our plan:

1\. Hold hands when we walk through the wall and onto the platform. Keep holding hands until train departs. Some cutesy flirting and giggling would be helpful.  
2\. James is supposed to nod casually to Lily when they pass each other, just saying, "Hey, Evans." No stopping to chat, no lingering and drooly stares. Ick.  
3\. Get a compartment alone together, if possible. Meet James's partners in crime.  
4\. I'm supposed to laugh at everything James says when Lily is around, and talk about all the "great times we had together at James's house this summer" in front of her, as loudly as possible.

Throw in some more flirting, giggling, and cutesy pet names, and we've got ourselves a fool-proof Lily trap. See, as cheesy and cliché as this whole idea seems, and as much as we tell ourselves something like this would never work on us, it always does. Jealousy is present in even the most bitchy of minds. _Especially_ the most bitchy of minds. Mark my words; Lily will be begging for him in no less than a month.

Unless, you know, she won't want him back. Which is kinda what I'm hoping for. I mean, as stupid as it sounds, I have this little fantasy that James will end up falling for me, choosing me over Lily. Pfft. Like that will ever happen.

So, when the Big Day finally comes, I have one last part of the Preparation Plan to complete: cutting James's hair.

"No."

"Yes."

"No! You are not touching my beautiful hair!"

"Oh yes I am. Trust me. This is essential. I can make you a Sex God. All it takes is one little snippity-snip—"

"Eww, never say that again, it makes me nervous." He says, backing away from me.

"For me?" I ask, pouting. He scowls.

"Fiinnnne." He groans. "But you better know what you're doing up there."

"I am very talented at this, thank you very much. I cut my brother's too."

"What if I'm less manly once it's gone?" He asks sadly.

"You do know its your _hair_ we're talking about here, right?"

"Yes, yes, I know. Just get it over with quickly; I can't stand the suspense."

I first run a hand through his hair, getting a feeling for its texture and length. It's surprisingly soft and smooth; my heart is beating nervously somewhere near my throat; I'm flushed. What if I can't do this?

No. I can. And I will.

I take a deep breath, and make the first wave of my wand. _Snip!_ A strand of dark hair falls to the ground. From then on I'm in my element; hair is flying everywhere; my hands are a blur. After I'm finished I run my hands through his hair again, trying to smooth and structure it; it works, to a certain extent. He no longer looks electrocuted, at least. In fact, he looks…wow. Woooowwww. I think I'm in trouble.

"Finished." I whisper hoarsely. James slowly opens his eyes and looks up at me.

"That was…amazing." He says. "It was like…I don't even know. You have serious talent, Max."

"Thanks…but shouldn't you take a look at your hair before praising me like that?"

"Oh…right…" he turns to look in the mirror, and his mouth falls open. "Nice work, DeVough! And here I thought it was impossible for me to be any more sexy…"


	7. You and Me, on the Floor NOW!

Well, this is it. The Big Day. Time to test out my master plan on Lily. James says she's got "the most beautiful golden fiery red hair" and "eyes so green they could put a traffic light out of business." His words, not mine.

Ben looks adorable; his curly blond hair and big blue eyes make him look really angelic. A huge deception; I really don't know how he pulls it off. He's in his old school uniform, the one he had to wear back in Washington at PC: black pants and a white button-down dress shirt. He chose not to wear the tie; good call, Benny.

I, on the other hand, am not so classy. I need to make Lily as jealous as possible, so I go for optimum hotness. With my wand I poof my hair, giving it more volume and shine, and apply my make-up with even greater care than usual. I look at my green eyes in the mirror; they aren't bright, not like James says Lily's are. Mine are more of a hazel, a darker green. I wish I got my brother's eyes; clear, beautiful blue. Lucky bastard.

I pull on a little thing I think must be a skirt; it's denim and scandalously skimpy. James picked it out; he said it would work the best to make Lily jealous. Pfft. I don't want to make her think I'm a whore! I lengthen it a good two and a half inches, and then pull on my favorite pink hoodie. I know; mini skirts and hoodies don't exactly mesh that well, but it's more of a comfort thing. I need it.

Once I'm ready, and have all my stuff packed (including the inhaler) I skip out to the living room, where everyone else is already waiting. James stands up when I enter, and extends an arm. I link up, grinning.

"You look lovely." He says politely.

"As do you," I say back in my own British accent. He laughs. "Shall we?" We walk outside to the large black car waiting for us (we have to go muggle-style because my stupid lungs can't handle apparating or traveling by flu powder. Too much dust.)

The trip there is surprisingly awkward. I mean, as good of friends as James and I have become over the past couple weeks, this is taking our relationship to a whole other level. We don't speak much, and once we get there I'm actually really nervous. What if this doesn't work? What if I misjudged Lily's reaction, and she tries to kill me for stealing her Jamesie-poo?

"Ready?" I ask him. He looks at me, his nerves visible, and takes my hand, nodding.

"Ready."

We step through the barrier (which is totally sweet, by the way) and onto Platform 9 ¾; suddenly we are surrounded. The platform is crammed with students and their families, and is extremely loud. After saying goodbye to James's parents and waving to Ben as he heads off to greet some jocky-looking boys in another part of the platform, James and I start on our way to the train.

"Oi! Potter! Who's the girl?" A boy, who looks a bit younger than James comes running up to us. He has short sandy-blond hair and brown eyes, and a devilish smirk.

"Hey Peter! This is Max. She's American."

"Ohhhhh." Peter says, as if this explains everything. "Pleasure to meet you, Max; I'm Peter Pettigrew.

"'Sup." We shake hands. "What grade are you in?"

"Grade? Oh, you mean year…same as you, I think. Seventh, right?"

"Yep. So…are you one of the infamous Marauders?" I'm actually a bit surprised that Peter is in seventh year; he's so tiny!

"I am, I am," he confirms, grinning. This basically ends our conversation; Peter sees a friend and rushes off, and James and I continue on our way.

"Damn, I almost forgot!" Suddenly James stops, and digging around in his pocket pulls out a shiny little badge. "My awesome Head Boy badge."

"Head…Boy?"

"I forgot to tell you…I'm like, in charge of everyone." He shrugs, looking pleased with himself. "I bet Lily is the Head Girl…which means we'll be sharing a room…" He stares dreamily off into space for a moment.

"WHAT?! AND YOU ARE JUST TELLING ME THIS _NOW_?"

"Sorry, sorry, I just—"

"Potter."

Oh, look who's here. This must be Lily Evans. I snatch up James's hand and lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder.

"Evans." He nods, before walking off without introducing us. Perfect!

"That was amazing!" I say as soon as we find a compartment on the Hogwarts Express. "You were perfect, James, absolutely fabulous! She was sooo jealous!"

"You think so? I felt really rude." I snort. Since when does James care about being rude? I mean, this is the boy who said my name is a guy name the first time we met. I'm still pretty ticked about that, actually.

"You were great. Now come sit next to me."

"Is this part of the plan?" he asks, confused. I nod.

"Yeah. Plus, I really need a nice pillow to take a nap on. I'm tired." And I lay down, resting my head on his shoulder.

"Max! Max, wake up!" My eyes open to see someone shaking me. Ben.

"Hello to you too." I say grumpily. "Was that really necessary?" I sit up, stretching. James is sleeping, his mouth open, head resting against the window.

"This train is awesome, Max! Did you try the candy?" He sounds so excited.

"Glad you like it."

"And I met these really awesome guys; their names are Craig, Ethan, Ash, and Jimmy!"

"Jimmy?" I ask, not really paying attention.

"Yeah, Jimmy Smith; he's really cool! You might have seen him; he's got, like, these awesome dreads."

"Introduce me," I say. Maybe one of them will be cute or something, you never know.

"Sure! Come on!" He practically drags me to his compartment, where the four boys are sitting, laughing at something. "Guys, this is my sister Max. Max, the guys." They aren't bad. Not bad at all. They're no James, but they're not completely physically unfortunate. I pick out Jimmy right away; he has black dreadlocks and tan skin, and deep, hooded brown eyes.

The other three look a lot alike; nothing special. One of them has blond hair and large hazel eyes, and wears glasses; another has long brown hair and very light eyes, with dimples. The final one is tall and thin, with pink cheeks and light hair. They all look pretty athletic, except for Jimmy, who just looks like a rebel. I decide to address him.

"So. You play Quidditch?" I ask. He looks surprised that I'm talking to him. His friends snigger.

"Not exactly." He grins, like I said something funny. "You?"

"Well, duh. And soccer, and volleyball."

"Soccer? Oh, you mean football…so, you're athletic? You got a six pack?" The guys think this is just hilarious.

"Yup." I lift my shirt; this shuts them up. I lower it again, in a dignified sort of manner, clear my throat, and say, "Well, it was very nice meeting you all." And then, I leave. Ben just stares after me, looking half amazed, half horrified.

Haha.

Ha.

When I get back to my compartment, James is still sleeping. Only now, he's not alone. Lily?

"Um…excuse me?" I ask, eyebrows raised. She jumps up; she'd totally been checking him out when he was sleeping! She turns bright red.

"Oh, um…I was just…hello, I'm Lily." She extends a hand. I shake it, smirking, then take a seat beside James.

"He's just so cute when he sleeps," I say lovingly, brushing some dark hair out of his eyes. Lily doesn't say anything. "I'm surprised he hasn't rolled onto the floor…usually he's very…what's the word? Mobile, while he sleeps. I go to sleep beside him, and when I wake up he's half under the bed!" I laugh hysterically at this, which probably makes her think I'm insane. Great.

"You know each other well, then?" There's an edge to her voice. I grin.

"You could say that." I don't elaborate.

"You're from America…how did you come to be here in Europe?"

"Well, Lily, it's a long story. But basically, I met James at the beginning of the summer, and his family invited my brother and me to stay at their mansion for the rest of the summer. They are _sooo_ nice, the Potters. So is James. He's such a sweety, always helping out around the house and taking care of his family. I never once saw him yell at his mom."

"You and your brother? So where are your parents?"

"Oh, they're…dead, actually. They both died from disease."

"I'm so sorry!" She gasps, looking horrified. I shrug.

"Yeah, it pretty much sucks. James has been really nice this whole time…comforting me, and stuff." I decide now is a good time to turn on the tears. I sniff, looking down. "I j-just don't know what I would do w-without h-him!" And of course, this is when James chooses to wake up. He's got impeccable timing, this one.

"Lily?" He asks, confused, before noticing me. He shoots up, hair messier than ever. "Max, what's wrong?" He looks concernedly at me, putting an arm around my shoulder. I wonder if he heard our conversation…he's playing his part perfectly. "Are you okay? Should I get Ben? How are your l—"

"I'm f-fine, James." I sniffle pitifully. "I was just thinking about m-my parents, and how they d-died." James is looking extremely confused. I guess he was sleeping.

"Oh, I…umm…here, come here Max, that's it…" he pulls me to him and I "cry" into his chest. Lily clears her throat.

"Well, it was lovely meeting you, Max. Potter." And she leaves. I immediately sit up, rubbing the tears from my eyes.

"What the _hell_ was that all about?" James asks. I grin.

"Lily was totally checking you out when you were sleeping." I say. He frowns.

"Oh. Okay. And you really are—I mean, the tears were really realistic…"

"I'm fine, James! Calm down. Here, let me fix your hair." I take out my wand and go about smoothing and styling his hair. It doesn't exactly work all that well, but it does look a lot better once I'm done. "You have really soft hair," I comment. Then I jump as I feel a hand in _my_ hair.

"Yours is softer," he says.

His hand is still in my hair.

"Whoa."

"Hello Sirius."

"Whoa."

"This is Max, my girlfriend."

"Whooooooa."

It feels weird to hear James say that…I mean, we agreed to pretend to be boyfriend and girlfriend, right? Remus knows, but he won't tell anyone. I know it's going to be really hard for James to keep this from Sirius, though. And really, I don't have a problem with Sirius knowing the truth; as long as he doesn't go blabbing to Lily, that is.

Speaking of Sirius, he is smokin'! Shaggy dark hair, light grey eyes; but he's too…I don't know, typical. Model-y. Plus, judging by his lack of a decent vocabulary, he's not the roundest hole in the doughnut either, brains-wise. Maybe more of a crescent moon.

"What about Lily?" Sirius asks, looking genuinely confused.

"I don't know; I guess she just gave me one refusal too many. I met Max here at Mum's work."

Sirius turns to me, beaming.

"You fixed him!" He says joyfully, and gives me a big hug. Is he retarded?

"It's nice to meet you too, Sirius." I say slowly and clearly, smiling pleasantly. "Now what exactly do you mean by saying that I 'fixed' him?" He looks taken aback by the slow tone with which I am speaking to him.

"I mean, you fixed him," he shrugs. "I was starting to worry he wasn't a proper, you know, _boy_." He whispers the last word, looking over at James, who is scowling. "I mean, come on; a guy only lusting after one girl? Yeah. Riiiiight."

"Who says I only lusted after one girl?" James asks defensively. "Just because I can control myself doesn't mean—"

"Whatever you say, Prongs. I'm just glad that Max here is a girl. I must say, when Remus told me that I have to 'go see James and his new love interest Max' I was quite concerned."

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" James and I both ask at the same time, outraged.

"Nothing, nothing. Well, later then you lot. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." And off he goes.

"Yeah, like there's anything he wouldn't do," James mutters darkly.

"Um, James? Is Sirius _okay_? In the head?"

"What?"

"Is he, you know, mentally challenged?"

"That's debatable," James says seriously. "But no, I don't think he is."

"Oh. Okay."

Awkward silence. I clear my throat.

"You know, it's okay with me if you tell him. About us, I mean."

"Are you crazy? After all that he said about me lusting after Lily? No way! I'd basically be proving his point!"

"Well, he's right you know."

"No he isn't! I've liked a lot of girls before other than Lily!"

"Like who?"

"Um…..hmmm….."

"That's what I thought." I say this triumphantly, but inside I'm a bit hurt. What am I, chopped liver?

The rest of the trip is pretty boring; I meet some weird people with even weirder names: Lexus, Cajus, Shealin, Oryan, and Kyren, to name a few. Not that I'm one to talk when it comes to weird names.

"Your name is Max? That's so brill! Mine is Shealin! We're in the same year, right? This is so ace!"

This girl is going to get very old, very fast. She's like the valley girls back in the States who talked like, "Omigod, like, is that, like, totally new? So cool! Omigod! Like, omigod!" Too many exclamation points, for one thing. For another thing, like, OMIGOD, like, shut up with the omigods! Haha. Ha.

Oh, and then there was good ol' Cajus, who spoke with such a thick cockney accent I couldn't understand a word he said. I just nodded and smiled. Lexus, on the other hand, is very proper and reminds me of some royal princess. She even looks like one: long curly blonde hair, big blue eyes, prominent cheekbones, etcetera, etcetera.

Once the last person finally leaves, James and I are all alone again.

"FINALLY." James says, groaning. "I thought they'd never leave!"

"I know. What, have they never seen an American before?"

"Some of them haven't. They probably wanted to see if all the rumors about you lot are true." James grins evilly.

"What rumors?"

"Well, it's a widely-known fact that an American girl will bang anything that moves. And some things that don't—"

"You didn't just say that." I growl, and throw myself at him, out for blood. I tackle him onto the floor, and grab him by his crazy hair. "Take it back! Take it back!"

"Are you going to deny it—OWWOWWOWW, GEROFF ME, YOU LITTLE—"

"Potter."

Crap.

James tries to stand; unfortunately I am still clinging to his hair when he does this, and he lets off a string of swearwords I will never again repeat, and some that I think he must've made up.

"L-Lily!" He says when he finally detangles himself from me. "What's up?"

"Do the words 'Head Boy duties' mean anything to you?" Lily asks coldly. James just stares at her. No doubt he has something nasty running through his head right now.

"Head…Boy…Duty…"

"You were supposed to talk to the prefects with me, but you never came so I had to do it alone!"

"Ooops. Sorry 'bout that, Evans. I was…caught up." He looks back at me, winking. Good one. Caught up. Verrrry funny. I smile flirtatiously at him.

"Well, one more slip-up like that and I'll have you released from your position!"

"Released…Position…" Obviously this is just too much for his one-tracked little mind to take; he bursts into laughter, and soon I'm laughing too (who knows why) and we're in a heap on the floor again.

When I look up, Lily is gone.

And I am on the floor.

With James Potter.


	8. Why It's a Bad Idea to Diss a Hat's Mom

A/N: Thanks for the comments, favorites and follows! Here is a bonus chapter for you to enjoy on this fine Memorial Day.

"Sweet!" I screech the moment I set eyes on Hogwarts and its grounds.

"Yes, the castle is quite nice," James admits, shrugging.

"No, silly, I was talking about the Quidditch pitch! Oooooh, this year is gonna be fun…"

"I thought you weren't allowed to play any sports."

"Pfffft. Ben is full of it-shay. Of course I can play! Now that I have my inhaler I can do anything!" I must have an evil expression on my face, because James clears his throat, looking nervous.

"Er—not to be rude, but when you get that look on your face it's kind of a turn-off."

"What?"

"I mean, some guys might like it if their bird looks at them like they want to take over the world and rip out everyones' entrails, but personally I'm more for the flowers and chocolates."

"Very funny, James. Veerrrrry cute." I smack him in the head. "You sound just like Jack!" I laugh, and then realize what I've just said and an overwhelming sense of sadness and loss overcomes me. "Jackson…"

He'd love it here, everything about it. I never thought I'd go anywhere without him, much less a castle in a different country. We used to do everything together; we were inseparable. So what am I doing here? Now that I have my inhaler, shouldn't I be able to go back to Washington?

And now there's the issue of James, and our "friendship," or whatever it is. I don't want to leave him either.

"What are you thinking?" James asks. I shake myself out of my thoughts, and turn to him, trying not to cry.

"Trust me, James. You do _not_ want to know."

"Max…please. You can trust me. I think we've been over this."

Here's where I reach a problem. Even if I wanted to try and explain Jack's and my relationship to James, I couldn't. Our friendship is too special, too _huge_ to be put into words. I mean, what would I say, exactly? Do I _love_ Jack? Is there more to our relationship than plain old friendship?

"Thank you James. I just…I have some stuff I need to sort out before talking to you. Give me a few hours. Maybe days." Maybe never.

"That sounds fair," James says, shrugging. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the person you were secretly writing to back at my place, would it? Jackson?"

"Oh, right. I'd almost forgotten how you read my private letter."

"Hey! It was lying right out there, practically _begging_ me to read it! I thought you were over that."

"I am, I am. You're right, it is about Jackson…it's always about Jack…"

"No it isn't," James says. "Nothing is ever only about one person."

"What about Lily?"

"Okay, I may have been a bit obsessed with her—"

"A bit?"

"—okay, a lot, but that isn't my point! My point is that not _everything_ I did was because of Lily."

"And this is supposed to make me feel better _how_? You and Lily and me and Jackson are not exactly good comparisons."

"Why not?"

"They just aren't, okay? Sheesh!"

"Sorry. Here, give me your hand."

"Huh?"

"Your hand, give it to me."

I take James's hand in my own; it's warm and dry, and a lot bigger than mine. Once we're off the train we go and try to find a carriage to ourselves. Meanwhile, I think. A lot. I think about the kiss Jackson and I shared, about the 'I love you' we exchanged before I left him. When James and I are seated in the carriage, I clear my throat.

"I've given it a lot of thought," I say. "Well, at least ten minutes of thought, anyway. And I think I'll tell you."

"Tell me about this Jackson?"

"Yes."

"Go on, then."

"Right. So. Um." Where to start? "Jackson and I knew each other since we were both in diapers. From the age of two we were completely inseparable." And I tell him about growing up, about how much Jackson meant to me, how he was there for me when my parents died. "I guess some part of me always expected us to…you know…hook up some day. I mean, seeing my life without Jackson in it was like…I don't know, I couldn't even imagine it. It was incomprehensible. I never specifically thought about starting a serious relationship with him, at least not at first; I just figured we'd always be together. It was stupid, to think that. Nobody ever stays together their whole lives. People grow apart." I shrug. "Right before leaving we…we kissed, and I told him that I loved him. Love him. I love him. Oh, and did I mention Ben hates him?"

It takes a surprisingly short amount of time to tell James all of this. He's a great listener; silent, but attentive.

"Life is short, Max."

"You have no idea."

"What did you say?"

"Never mind."

"Anyway, like I was saying, life is short, and you should spend it with the person you love. And if that person is Jackson, than I don't think anyone should have the right to stop you."

"You make it sound so easy…but what if there's more to it than that? What if," I venture, as our eyes meet, "What if I like someone else, too? What if I don't want to leave them either?" Neither of us looks away.

"In that case," he whispers, "I have no idea. Follow your heart."

Now, that's one of those cliché phrases I usually hate with a passion, but now it seems like that's really the only advice that makes any sense. But what if I can't follow my heart? What if I don't know what my heart is telling me?

Wow. I just used about three billion cliché phrases in one paragraph. I have reached an all-time low.

"So. Here we are." The castle looks even huger up close; I have to tilt my head back to see the whole front door.

"James…"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For…for listening. Nobody ever listens."

"No problem."

We walk into the great hall; it's fantastic! A huge ceiling looms overhead, only it doesn't look like a ceiling at all, but a big dome of sky. I grin; holy crap, this school makes G-WAM look like a crap-hole. There are four enormous tables, with banners hanging above them; my eyes drift immediately to the gold and red one with the noble-looking lion on it, and smile. Gryffindor; James's House. I start walking towards it when James stops me.

"I think you have to be sorted yet. So…um…you're going to have to go over there with the first years."

"WHAT?"

"Sorry."

Scowling, I stomp over to the incoming first years, who look terrified by my very presence.

"What are you staring at, shorty?" I ask a particularly scrawny boy with crooked glasses and tufty pale hair. He whimpers, quickly moving as far away from me as possible.

"Nervous?" Ah, Ben is here.

"Nah. I know where I am going; Gryffindor. You?"

"I don't really care where they put me, but yeah, Gryffindor would be nice." He shrugs.

"Well, you better not get into Slytherin."

"Prejudiced already? Grow up, Max."

" _You_ grow up!"

"Verrry mature."

"Thanks."

"Okay, first years, follow me!" A strict voice calls. The person herding us has straight brown hair pulled up in a neat bun, and large compassionate eyes. And yet, I can already tell she's a hard-ass.

"Are you Maxine and Benjamin DeVough?" she asks, and before waiting for an answer, continues, "You will be sorted last."

"Grrrrrreat," I growl, imitating Tony the Tiger. She doesn't get it, meaning I end up looking either mentally challenged or mentally deranged (or both). Neither bode well for my future reputation here at this fine castle on a hill.

"Try not to act so…" Ben pauses, choosing his words carefully. "…for lack of a better word, insane. Okay?"

"Sure thing, bro. You got it."

Slowly the line in front of us disappears, until we are the only two left.

"I hope you realize you are going first." I whisper to Ben.

"WHAT?"

"Noses!" I put my finger on my nose a millisecond before he does. Yesssss! I win! Bwahahahaha!

"Darn you!" He turns and walks quickly up to the sorting hat. I notice quite a few giggles from girls as he does so; yup, there are a lot of cheeks of the rosy variety in the hall.

"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat cries after only a few moments of deliberation. I cheer along with everyone else; now we'll be in the same House, at least. Actually, that might be a bad thing…

"Okay, Miss DeVough, you're-up!"

"America!" I shout. Silence. "You said you're-up, which sound like Europe, so I said—oh, for the love of god, have you no sense of humor?" More silence. "Guess not." I pull the hat on over my head, not sure why I have to put on a hat to be sorted.

 _Hello there Oh Great Hatty One. How goeth things on your side of the pond,_ I question the hat. Gawd, I'm hilarious. And then, the hat actually answers back. And following is an incredibly and disturbingly accurate description of the conversation the hat and I have:

Hat: _Quite well, thank you. It's not often anyone asks me about myself. I sometimes feel so very lonely…_

Me: _On with it! Focus, hat, focus! Now, repeat after me. Gryf. Fin. Dor._

Pause.

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouts out loud. Its voice echoes around the hall. This takes a moment to sink in.

Me: _WHAT? I TAKE THE TIME TO ASK YOU HOW YOU'VE BEEN DOING AND YOU PUT ME INTO RAVENCLAW? WHAT THE FRICK!?_

Hat: _You belong in Ravenclaw. You are incredibly intelligent._

Me: _Well you know who's not? YOUR MOM!_

Hat: _Don't you go dissing my mom now, ungrateful child!_ (Do hats even have moms?)

Me: _I'll diss whomever I damn well want to!_

"RAVENCLAW! RAVENCLAW! RAVENCLAW!" The hat screams.

Me: _Very mature hat, very funny. Not. You are the most obnoxious thing that has ever touched my hair!_

Hat: _Then take me off!_

Me: _NOT UNTIL YOU PUT ME INTO GRYFFINDOR._

Hat: _NOOOOO._ "RAVENCLLLLAAAAWWWWWWW!"

Now, I should mention that while I am having this internal argument with the hat, the others in the hall are still watching. Staring. Shocked out of their minds. Ha. I throw the hat off all at once, and hop to my feet.

"THIS IS ALL A MISUNDERSTANDING!" I yell, so that everyone is sure to hear me. "THE HAT WAS JUST KIDDING. IT REALLY SAID 'GRYFFINDOR.'"

"NO I DIDN'T!" The hat booms cheerfully. Darn you to heckfire, hat!

Eventually I give up, and storm to the Ravenclaw table, which doesn't clap at all. Somehow, I think they get the picture that I don't wanna be here. And by 'here,' I mean anywhere but in Gryffindor, with James and Ben.

I'm considerably cheered when food starts popping up on my plate, though. I'm starved; I stuff everything I can fit into my mouth, hardly chewing, which earns me looks of disgust and disapproval from my new House-mates.

"Bwhut?" I ask innocently. The girl sitting closest to me edges slowly away.

Once I can eat no more, I look around my table a bit. It's full of smarty-pants. I don't belong here. Not me, the grade-F procrastinator. The hat was just being cruel.

One girl, who has long black hair and large amber eyes, does smile at me. I decide to be her friend. I go over to her, grinning.

"Max," I say, extending my hand for her to shake.

"Hattie," she says, shaking my hand.

And there ya go. Insta-friends.

I also spot a certain dread-locked fellow. HE'S IN RAVENCLAW? WHAT?

He raises an eyebrow, grinning lazily at me.

"Do you always get into fights with headwear?"

"Not often. I try to stick to fighting with shoes most of the time. They have more sole." I crack up, and so does Jimmy.

"You're pretty funny," he admits.

"I'm glad someone around here appreciates my good humor."

"Where did you come from, anyway?" Hattie asks.

"The great country of Washington."

"Country? Since when?"

"Since now. If Texas can call itself a country, so can we gosh-darnit!

"Texas doesn't call itself a country." Jimmy points out.

"Pfft. That's what you think. But behind your back they're all, 'oh, look at us, we were once a frickin country and we're gonna kick all yer asses.' They're badass, in Texas." Jimmy just stares at me.

"With that statement you have just insulted millions of people." He pauses for effect. "Congratulations."

"No problemo. I try, I really do."

"So, Max…what was going on up there with the sorting hat? Were you guys…fighting? I've never seen the hat that riled up before." Hattie has this cool accent; I think it might be Russian.

"Well…no offense, but I kinda was hoping for Gryffindor. The stupid hat is freakishly cruel, putting me with the smart kids. I guess there's always Jimmy to keep me company, right?"

"That is extremely insulting. I will have you know that I am highest in our year in every class except Transfiguration. I have fourth in there; somehow the practically retarded Potter, Black, and Lupin beat me out. Don't know how they managed." I can tell he's really pissed about this; I decide to remember it, so I can use it against him later if I have to.

"Who teaches music around here? I play the violin."

Blank stares.

"We don't have a music program here. Or an art program. Or a sports program, other than Quidditch."

"WHAT? THAT'S TERRIBLE! WHAT KIND OF CRAP SCHOOL DOESN'T HAVE A MUSIC PROGRAM?"

"You're yelling again," Jimmy says calmly.

"Oops. Sorry. It's just, I can't believe it! I even brought my frickin violin here!"

"Hey, it's not like it's _banned_ or anything; calm down! I play the piano. We have one in our common room, actually, due to popular demand." Hattie grins, showing brilliantly white teeth. "My mum is a muggle, and is brilliant at keyboarding."

"Sweet! What about you, Jim-bo? Play any instruments?"

"Me? Play instruments?" He laughs for about an hour.

"So if you don't play sports, and you don't play instruments, what _do_ you do?"

"I…paint."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Like…what kind of stuff? People, fruit, landscapes…?"

"Mostly abstract. Dark abstract."

"Figures," I mutter. I am just thinking about how funny and weird it is that Jimmy is a painter when James comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me in a hug. Needless to say I am so shocked I nearly inhale all of the pudding on my plate.

"Are you okay?" James asks quietly in my ear. "Here, why don't you come over to my table for a bit?"

"Is that allowed?" I ask.

"Sure! Dumbledore's a sucker for House Unity and all that stuff."

"Okay! Hey, um, I'll see you guys later, kay?"

"Sure! It was nice meeting you," Hattie smiles shyly. Jimmy gives me a small nod, his face curiously blank.

"I can't believe you weren't put into Gryffindor!" James says once we're away from my House table. "I mean, I just figured…but I guess if it had to be any other House, at least it was Ravenclaw. Your brother is in shock, I think." I look at Ben, who is just staring at his plate of dessert. James and I sit down beside each other across from him.

"You okay?" I ask.

"I just…can't believe…you…were put into… _Ravenclaw_ …"

"Eh. Well, who knows. I guess Gryffindor just wasn't the right fit."

"No…I mean, I can't believe _you_ got into _Ravenclaw_ , the House meant for _smart_ people…"

I dump my pudding on his head.

James puts his hand on my back.

Lily is looking like she could care less about any of this.

Maybe this year won't be so bad after all…


	9. New Friends, New Problems

The Ravenclaw common room is pretty intense, let me tell ya. It's wide and circular with deep blue carpet and a domed, star-spangled ceiling. It has these enormous arched windows with curtains made of blue and bronze silks, and has a great view of the mountains. I can tell we are veerrry high up. There are tables and bookshelves everywhere, a sure sign of smarty-ness. And then there's the statue, this massive lady made of white marble.

The thing that most catches my eye, though, is the silver plush armchair in the corner. It looks just like a cloud, floating there above the floor.

Giranimmmooooo! I take a running start and throw myself towards the chair, prepared for luxurious softness. Instead, I meet Mr. Very Hard Floor.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you…the chair is cursed. They've tried to remove it, but every time they try—"

I am suddenly pulled upside-down by my ankles.

"-That happens. That chair has been there for centuries; the person to uncharm it wins a prize. Automatic O in Charms, a crapload of bonus points for your House, and of course your name will go down in history, forever remembered as 'the person who uncharmed that annoying cloud chair thingy.' Nobody has ever been able to uncharm it; the only person who has the ability to would be Flitwick, and he just laughs at you if you ask him." Hattie explains all this calmly.

"That's a great story, it really is. A little help now?" I'm hanging upside-down, all the blood rushing to my face, pounding in my head.

"It only lets you down if you tickle it in this certain spot. It's right by your left ear…yes, right there should do it…"

I prod the chair violently with my wand, and the blasted thing lets off a streak of lightning, dropping me on my head in the process. I hurry away from the angry, storming chair, gingerly fingering a singed piece of hair.

"'Dear diary: today a chair tried to kill me. It was a traumatizing experience for us both.'" I pretend to write in a book on one of the shelves, sitting as far away from the chair as possible.

"First the hat, now the chair…whomever will you get into a brawl with next?" Jimmy asks, sounding sarcastically curious.

"Oh hello there Jimmy. I didn't see you there behind that huge cloud of KILLJOY looming over your head." I grin at him so he knows I'm kidding.

"You are the ray of sunshine my existence has been craving." Jimmy replies seriously.

"And you are…um…" but before I can come up with a response, Hattie interrupts.

"Stop flirting you two! It's sickening. First you'll be mates, then—"

"MATES? Hell, no!" I say. There's an awkward pause. "Is this one of those times where I mistook a British word for an American one?" I ask.

"I don't know. What does 'mate' mean in the U.S.?" Hattie asks.

"Uhh…well, when a boy and a girl love each other _verrrry_ much, they…uh… mate."

"What do you mean?"

"They…uhhh…do the do. You know." Both Jimmy and Hattie crack up laughing.

"Whhhaat?" I whine.

"You should s-see your face! It's b-bright red! Oh come on Max, you know we were only kidding about not knowing what 'mate' means in the U.S. How stupid do you think we are?! Wait, wait…don't tell us, how does your lot say fringe? You know, the hair part that goes all over your forehead. How do you say it?"

"Bang. Hardyharhar. Very clever."

They think this is just hi-larious.

"Now if we're done laughing at 'bang' and 'mate,' I wouldn't mind seeing my room," I say pointedly. Hattie nods, still grinning, and we head on upstairs.

The first thing I notice upon entering the room is the ceiling. It's like the one in the common room, only even fancier. It has huge golden beams stretching skyward, and is painted a deep midnight blue, with swirls of bronze and lighter blue intermixed. There are five beds, all with heavy bronze frames and soft, velvety blue covers. The walls of the room are painted an impossibly shiny pearly white, and are decorated with many famous portraits and even older newspaper clippings and framed articles.

There are already two other girls in the room; one is tiny, with stick straight raven-black hair that comes down to her lower back; the other has extremely wild, tawny hair.

"Hello." I say politely. The black-haired girl turns to look at me; she offers a small, tight smile.

"You're Maxine. James's girlfriend."

Okkkkay…

"Umm…who told you that?"

"Everybody's talking about it." She assures me. "My name is Brigit, by the way, Brigit Andrews." She extends a slender, manicured hand; I shake it grudgingly.

"And you are?" I ask the curly-haired girl. She blushes prettily, and whispers something I can't quite hear. "What? Did you say 'Jam Bleacher'?" I ask.

"Her name is Amber Friedmann; she's an orphan, is seventh in every class, has never had a boyfriend, and lives with her Aunt, Uncle, and seven cousins in Dorset." Brigit says matter-of-factly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "And her middle name is—"

"Don't you dare, Bee, DON'T YOU DARE!" Amber screeches, suddenly coming alive.

"Oh, _fine_ , if you insist. Honestly, though, it isn't so bad; not as bad as mine, anyway…"

"What do you mean, not as bad as yours? Your middle name is Lyn!"

"Exactly, It's just so _boring_. If only it could be something exotic, like Esmerelda, or Cecilia!" She sighs, looking wistfully off into space.

"Well, this has been a very fascinating conversation," I lie dully. I go over to the bed with my stuff by it, and sit down; it's like sitting on a cloud! And, BONUS! it doesn't try to electrocute me and hang me by the ankle when I sit on it. Good deal!

Hattie takes the bed next to me, rolling her eyes, and whispers, "Brigit has always been like this. Honestly, she should have been put in Hufflepuff!" We giggle, then stop laughing when Brigit looks over at us suspiciously.

"So, who's our fourth roomie?" I ask Hattie.

"Well, I'm guessing it's Manda Craybill. She's nice; I've only ever heard her say two or three words at a time, though. She's _way_ into her studies."

"Oh. _That_ kind of person," I gag, disgusted. Hattie laughs. "So, wanna go back down and hang with Jimmy again, or what?"

"Sure, but let's get changed first."

"Why?"

"Okay, don't tell, but—"

"She has a crush on Ethan Sanders!" Brigit blurts out. How did she even hear our conversation?

"Ethan…isn't he in Gryffindor, though?"

"Yeah…" Hattie says dreamily. "He's so…mmm…"

"Okay, you're scaring me now!" I say.

"Sorry," She says, snapping out of her trance. "But I need to put on make-up and shorten my hemline if I ever want to catch his attention."

"Fiiiine, I'll wait. But hurry up."

"Why don't you primp too?"

"I already have a boyfriend, remember?" I say. "But you're right; why not?" And together we proceed, with some help from Brigit, to glam up. By the time we're done we are sexy beasts.

"I am a sexy beast," I comment. "And so are you."

She nods in agreement.

"Puh-leaze, you two are far from sexy." Brigit says, flicking her hair back. She takes out her wand and flicks it at the pair of us; our skirts shrink so much I screech, thinking she's vanished them. "There. That's better."

"I am not comfortable with this!" I say, as Hattie drags me down the steps and back into the common room. I try tugging the skirt down, but it's useless.

"I hate you." I hiss in Hattie's ear. She just smirks.

"Don't blame me, blame Bee!" She says cheerfully. Grrrr.

Jimmy isn't in the common room when we go down; I take a deep breath, and divulge some very top-secret information to Hattie.

"Don't freak out, please, but I can get us into the Gryffindor common room." I say quietly. She screams in delight, jumping up and down. "For the love of all that is holy, stop jumping! Your skirt is in danger of disappearing completely." She stops suddenly, looking embarrassed, and fixes the skirt. "Come on. Let's go." And off we head, to find the Gryffindor common room!

"I know where it is!" Hattie says happily. "I went there to…umm…"

"Stalk Ethan?" I guess. She turns bright red, and doesn't say anything. "I'll take that as a yes."

"I wasn't _stalking_ him, per say…"

"Yeah, yeah. Sell it to someone who's buying."

We reach a portrait of an enormously fat old woman sitting on a stone bench, with about ten pounds of make-up on. Hattie stops and looks at it.

"Um, Hattie, as fascinating as old pictures of fat old women well past their prime are to look at—"

"I BEG YOUR PARDON?" The fat lady booms.

"I BEG YOUR PARDON?" I yell back.

"Get back to your own House, you insolent girl!"

"YOU GET BACK TO—"

Hattie interrupts me, looking apologetically at the angry portrait.

"I'm sorry, Fat Lady, only we need into the common room."

"Absolutely not!"

"WHAT?" Now Hattie is the one looking upset.

"Is there something the matter here?" I hear a voice behind us. I turn; it's Sirius, looking creepily smug about something.

"We need in." I say coolly. He grins.

"What's the magic word?"

"PLEASE."

"Nope!" He says happily. I glare at him. "Try again! It starts with the letter 'k' and has and 'i' in it."

"Kiln. Kip. Knit. Kindle. King. Kill. Killjoy. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill."

"I'm sensing a pattern here," Sirius says thoughtfully.

"It's 'kiss'." Hattie says slowly. "The word is 'kiss'."

"Forget it, there is no way in HELL that I am EVER kissing you!" I say to Sirius, repulsed by the notion. "Now tell us the password and let us through!"

"Fine, fine. Nice skirts, by the way."

I shoot first him, then Hattie, the Death Glare.

"Amortenia." Sirius says to the Fat Lady. Scowling, she opens up, revealing a very large, very cozy-looking room furnished with rich reds and royal golds, and filled with Gryffindors, laughing and hugging, glad to be back at school after the summer break.

I follow Sirius inside, and immediately scope the room for James or Ben. I spot the latter over with a group of sporty-looking boys, including the one and only Ethan Sanders.

"Come on!" I drag a suddenly shy Hattie over to the jocks; then I let go of her hand, and jump on my brother, wrapping my arms around him in a strangling hug and clinging on for dear life.

"What the—" Ben tries to detangled himself from me. "What are you doing in here, Max?"

"Just saying hi! This is Hattie, by the way." I turn towards Hattie, and freeze. She has the classic 'holy fuck, I'm in love' face on, and you'll never guess who she's staring at. ME. Well, that's what I think at first; then I realize she's actually staring at Ben (thank god).

"Hattie thinks Ethan here is quite the catch!" I stage whisper so that everyone can hear. "Don't you, Hattie."

"Wha—I mean, sure, right…I haven't met your brother yet, Max, care to introduce us?"

"Hattie, Ben. Ben, Hattie. Erm…I'm going to go and look for James." I hightail it on out of there. Phew!

"Looking for someone?" A familiar voice says in my ear.

"Sirius." I growl, turning to face him.

"James is over there, with Lily." Sirius says smugly, pointing to the two. They're sitting side by side, having what appears to be a deep and meaningful conversation in front of the fire. I suddenly feel really, really sick.

"So they're…friends, now?"

"Guess so." Sirius shrugs.

"I can't…" I feel like I just missed a step going downstairs. _Calm down,_ I tell myself. _They're just talking, probably arguing._ "I have to get out of here." I push through the crowd of people, trying to find the Fat Lady again; finally I find her, push the opening forwards, and climb through. My breathing is a little ragged, my lungs straining as I fight to hold back tears. I know its irrational, and really, really stupid. I mean, I was the one helping James win Lily back! But I guess I just didn't expect it to work so _soon_.

Crap, my lungs really hurt now. I don't think I'm having an attack; those usually come really strong, but it's getting uncomfortable. I clutch my chest, trying to slow my breathing. The portrait hole opens, and out come the couple of the night, James and Lily. They're laughing about something; then James spots me.

"Max!" he races to my side, looking genuinely concerned. "What's wrong? Is it your chest?"

"I'm fine!" I rasp, pulling away from him. "It's nothing." I know it should make me feel good that James is worried about me, but instead it just makes me feel like I'm being lied to, or cheated. He doesn't _really_ care; I was just a pawn to get to Lily. And I always knew that. So why the hell am I so upset?

"Do you have your inhaler?" James asks quietly, so that Lily can't hear.

"It's in my room. But don't bother, I'll be…fine." My chest feels like its burning from the inside.

"O-Okay, if you're sure…"

He doesn't come after me when I leave. Before I'm out of earshot, I hear Lily say, "Is everything alright, James?"

James.

 _James_.


	10. Riddles and Hot Chocolate

By the time I make it back to the Ravenclaw common room, my lungs feel a bit better; I guess the walk helped me calm down some. Sheesh, I need to stop letting my emotions get the better of me.

The common room is almost empty; Jimmy's sitting on the couch, reading a book and looking very subdued. He doesn't look up when I come in.

"Hey," I say quietly. My voice is slightly raspy from all the excitement earlier. He takes out a bookmark, saves his page, and then looks up at me.

"Hey." He pats the space beside him, motioning for me to sit down. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing." I sit down beside him, and curl up into the fetal position, my knees tucked under my chin, my arms wrapped around my bare legs. "Just drama as usual. Distract me."

"Did you know that a cockroach can live nine days without its head, before it starves to death? Or that a cat has thirty-two muscles in each ear? Or that a poison-arrow frog has enough poison to kill about 2,200 people?"

"No, I can't say I did! What, do you go around memorizing random facts for _fun_?"

"Sometimes." He shrugs. "It gets lonely being an only child. As a kid I spent a lot of time with the Encyclopedias."

"I'm sorry," I say quietly. "I mean, I can't imagine not having Ben around. Did he tell you about our parents?"

"No…"

"Well, both of them died a few years back, from a rare disease. Ben's been raising me for awhile now."

"And why are you in Europe, so far from home?"

"It's a really long story, and to be honest I don't know if I'm ready to tell anyone yet. Sorry."

"It's fine. I understand. I just—what the—" He looks over, suddenly alert; there's a large animal outside our window. Mindy! I race to her and let her in, excitement flooding me and warming me from head to toe. Sure enough, there's a letter tied to Mindy's claw; I take it, clutching it protectively to my chest.

"Thank you. Now go and get some rest; I'll buy a whole thing of treats for you later, I promise!" She hoots importantly and flies away; I close the window again, and start towards the steps leading up to my room.

"Who's it from?" Jimmy calls. I turn to him, a huge grin on my face.

"Goodnight, Jimmy. Thank you!" And I go upstairs as quickly as I can. Once I'm in my bed with my wand lit, I unfurl the paper and start to read.

 _Max,_

 _Where the hell are you? Do I get a hint? A continent would be nice. It's shit here without you; everywhere I look I think I see you; I must be going crazy. I even miss Ben and his nagging, believe it or not. Everyone really misses you (except for most of the teachers) but no one more than I do. It feels unreal, like I'm not really living, like this is all some freaky hallucination. Please tell me you're okay; the only thing that keeps me from completely losing it is knowing that you are getting treatment now. Are you going to school? Playing any sports? I guess you probably aren't, because of your lungs. Be happy, though, Max. Please, please, be happy. Don't give up; I'll find you eventually, I promise. I love you. I know you feel the same. Please be safe, and respond as soon as you can._

 _Jack_

Oh, Jackson! How did you know exactly when to write, exactly when I needed to hear your voice (or read you writing, in this case)? I get out a piece of paper and immediately start formulating my response.

 _Jack,_

 _I'm fine. I won't go as far as saying that I'm happy, but I've definitely been worse. I'm safe, healthy, and being taken good care of. I was so happy to hear from you, you have no idea! I'm so far away from you…I guess that's a hint, sort of. I'm at a Magic school, and from my window there are lots of huge, snowy mountains, even though it's summer time still (there's another hint). The school is huge and the people in it seem pretty nice over all, if not a little stuck up. No worse than G-WAM, in any case. Ben is fine too, I think; we're just a bit overwhelmed. You can't miss me half as much as I miss you, Jackson. Please come and find me. Take me away; we can go live on some deserted island and survive off of nothing but coconut and onion grass. I can even weave you a banana-leaf hat, so you don't get burnt to a crisp. I love you, you know I do._

 _Max_

I decide to go back down to the common room and ask Jimmy where the owlry is; he's still lounging on the couch, this time close to sleep. Hattie's still not back.

"Jimmy?" I ask. He slowly stretches, opening tired eyes.

"You again?" He asks, but he doesn't sound annoyed.

"Come with me to the owlry."

"Whyyyy? I was s-s-sleeping!" He yawns enormously. Wow, he has a huge mouth.

"Please?" I ask. He sighs, then stands. "Fine, fine. I'll go. But only if we can stop by the kitchens afterwards and get some snacks. Sound good?"

"Sounds excellent!" We both head out of the common room; we walk in silence for a long time, both thinking our own separate thoughts. I'm thinking about Jackson, and how if he ever finds me, maybe everything will be okay again. I don't know what Jimmy is thinking, for obvious reasons (me not being able to read minds), but he definitely looks thoughtful.

"You're staring at me." He says without even looking at me.

"Am not!" I say, still staring. "Okay, I am. Your dreadlocks are pretty sweet."

"I know. I got them for three main reasons. First, I wanted to piss my parents off. Second, I always hated washing my hair anyway; now I have an excuse. And third, the chicks dig it."

"Oh really! Well, did you succeed?"

"What?"

"Did you succeed in pissing your parents off?"

"Oh…no, it kind of backfired, actually. Now they think I'm troubled, and need psychiatric help. Something about me being a 'drug-addicted-hippie-loving-rock-n-roll-obsessive-maniac,' I believe was the exact terminology used."

"Hippie-loving? You guys have hippies too? I thought that was only back home! I love the hippies, I really do."

"I'm not trying to be a hippie, though…I mean, I guess I am, in a sense, seeing as I'm a non-conformist of sorts, but I don't do drugs all the time, and I do bathe every once in a while."

"Well, that's good to know. When you say that you don't do drugs all the time, what exactly does that mean?"

"Well, I've done drugs before, but that was in my past. I've been clean for a year now."

"Congratulations! I, however, am a tobacco-free zone." I don't bother mentioning that any kind of drugs that you smoke are banned from me, seeing as if I tried to smoke them it'd probably kill me on the spot because of my lungs.

"Here we are!" We come to a huge, dark, cavernous room, coated in layer upon layer of owl crap.

"Loooovely." I draw out the word, crinkling my nose at the stench.

"Do you want to use a school owl?"

"Yeah…Mindy—that's J-James's owl—just went on a long trip for me, so she's probably tired." I stutter when I say James's name, and Jimmy notices. Of course he does.

"J-James? What's with the stutter?"

"Nothing!" I snap. "What, and you never stutter? Sheesh, gimme a break!"

"Fine, fine." He shrugs. "You know, he'll end up with Lily." I freeze, my heart dropping to my knees.

"Why would you say something like that?" I grind out, barely audible over the constant hooting and screeching of the birds around us.

"Look, I'm sorry. I don't know you that well, but I do know Lily and James. Since first year, when James first decided he wanted Lily to be his, I knew they'd end up together."

"You know James? Were you guys friends?"

"Yeah; until about third year, when he started completely ignoring me. All for the stupid _Marauders_." He says this bitterly, not looking at me.

"And Lily?"

"Lily." He sighs, running a hand through his dreads. "Lily, Lily, Lily."

I wait expectantly.

"We dated, for awhile. It was fun."

"WHAT? YOU DATED LILY?" Oh Dear Lord, HAVE MERCY ON ME, DAMMIT!

"Yeah, for about…hmm…two years, I guess it was. Fourth and Fifth year. Wow, could she snog…"

"T-two _years_?" I ask incredulously. "Why has James never bothered mentioning this to me?"

"Dunno. He's probably still in denial about the whole thing." Jimmy snorts, looking amused. "Here, let's get you an owl."

We find a large, strong-looking owl with glossy black feathers and a bright orange beak. I tie the letter to its left claw, whisper directions to the owl in its ear, and then watch as it flies away.

"Thanks for coming with me." I say earnestly to Jimmy on the way back down out of the owlry. "Ready to go to the kitchens?"

"Yeah!" He looks suddenly cheered, and runs off in front of me. "Hurry up, slowpoke!"

I chase him until he suddenly stops. I don't expect this, and crash into him. And I'm not talking a tiny bump, I'm talking a full-force missile attack. We both end up on the floor, breathless.

"Oh," I say stupidly, looking down on him. "Hello there."

"Hi," he says, and we both crack up.

Once we finally get our limbs sorted out, Jimmy shows me the entrance to the kitches, and how you have to tickle the pear.

"Will this pear by any chance try to electrocute me when I touch it?" I ask suspiciously, remembering the cursed chair in the Ravenclaw common room. He laughs.

"No, I don't think so. But it might giggle."

The kitchens are ama-za-zing! The moment we enter them, all these little tiny cute things with tiny bodies and button noses come scurrying up to us, ready to serve.

"What's your name?" I ask one with especially large ears and round, blue eyes.

"My name Millie, Miss!" The elf squeaks delightedly. "What you be wanting, Miss? A snack? Some milk?"

"I don't know; ask Jimmy!"

Jimmy pauses, thinking, and then orders two steaming mugs of hot chocolate and a tray of assorted desserts.

"Sweet!" I say, already hungry. "Thanks guys! Thanks Millie!"

She bows, beaming, as we exit the kitchens.

"Wow, this is great!" I say enthusiastically once we're heading back to the Ravenclaw tower again. "How'd you learn about the kitchens?"

"James."

Pause.

"Oh. I see."

Awkward silence.

"What's up with you and James, anyway? I mean, something just doesn't seem right to me." Jimmy says slowly, refusing to look at me. I sigh.

"Can I tell you?"

"I don't know, can you?"

"Well, can I _trust_ you?"

"Of course."

"Okay." And I explain James's and my plan; how I was pretending to be going out with James to make Lily jealous. "Only now, I'm kinda having second thoughts about the whole thing. I mean, why should I help James, when he isn't giving me anything in return?"

"Well, that's usually what friends do," Jimmy says reasonably. "But I happen to agree with you on this one; it's a bad idea."

By now we're at the door leading into the Ravenclaw common room.

I wait for the riddle.

"Decapitate me and all becomes equal. Then truncate me and I become second. Cut me front and back and I become two less than I started. What am I?"

I just stare. Seriously? Decapitate? _Truncate_? Talk about morbid!

"You're losing your touch!" Jimmy says, shaking his head. "Honestly, could you think of nothing harder to solve? The answer is the word seven. When you take the first letter off of 'seven', thus decapitating it, you get 'even', or equal. When you truncate 'even' you get 'eve', the second person according to the Bible. And when you take the first and last letters off of 'eve' you get v, which is the Roman numeral five, and also two less than seven. Simple!"

Stare.

"You disgust me," I hiss as the door swings open to allow us entrance.

"What, you didn't figure that one out?" He asks innocently. I just glare at him, scowling.

"Okay, so back to our earlier conversation," I say, sitting down on the couch and sipping at my hot chocolate. "What should I do?"

He sits down beside me, crossing his legs Indian-style. "Well, It's difficult to say. Do you like James?"

"Of course I do!" I say dismissively.

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, I like him. A lot more than I should, probably. Okay?"

He nods slowly, stirring his hot chocolate with his wand and contemplating my response.

"Well, I would suggest you try and get over him—" I start yelling in protest, but he holds up a hand to silence me, and pushes on. "—I know that's not what you want to hear, though, so I guess if you _really_ like him, you should make him fall for you."

"How?" I whine. "He only has eyes for Lily!"

"Wearing skirts like that is a good way to start," Jimmy says, his eyes traveling down my exposed legs. "Look pretty for him. Flirt. Do that stuff that's obnoxiously effective on even the most virtuous of us men. We live for sex, Max." Well, at least he's honest.

"Are you suggesting I have sex with James?" I ask, appalled and excited by the idea at the same time.

"What? No! No, what I mean is, if Lily isn't giving James the—uh—attention he's needing, which I'm guessing she isn't, he won't be able to control his—uh—manly urges…" He's blushing; I'm trying not to laugh.

"Whatever, Jimmy. Can you help me? Help me get James?"

"I'm sorry, Max. I don't want to get involved. Like I said, I think this is all a really bad idea, and that you should come clean to Lily and just get over James. Otherwise, someone is going to end up getting hurt. I would hate it if that person is you."

I lean over and hug Jimmy; his hair smells nice, like pine or something woodsy and male.

"Thank you," I whisper, releasing him. "Thanks for everything tonight. I really app—"

"MAAAAAAAAAX!" Suddenly I am attacked by a shrieking, giggling Hattie. "Max, oh Max, I luuuuuurve you!" She's hugging me, giggling into my hair. I look over at Jimmy, who's looking just as confused as I am.

"Are you drunk?" I ask Hattie seriously. She snorts, laughing, tears streaming down her face.

"Jussa…jussa bit…" She laughs. "Your brother is sssoooooooo sexy…sssssooooooo sexy…" She's making it into some sort of song, hand motions included.

"Hattie! Snap out of it!" I slap her across the face. She freezes, looking shocked. "What's the matter with you? This is my brother you're lusting after, remember? GROSS!"

"His hair is sooooo pretty, Max…sooooo pretty, like an angel's. He doesn't look anything like you!"

"Thanks a lot," I say sourly. "Seriously; are you drunk?"

"I only had a little bit…they are partiers, the Gryffindors. Your brother asked me to daaaaaance with him," She smiles dreamily. "He's soooooo pretty…."

"Okay, we're getting you to bed," I say, grabbing her arm and dragging her upstairs. "Goodnight, Jimmy!"

"G'night, love."

"G'NIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!" Hattie sings, blowing Jimmy a giant, wet kiss. I cringe, dragging her into the room and closing the door.

"Now shut up; we don't want to wake Brigit up!"

"I loooooove your brother, Max. I _loooooove_ him!"

"I'm sure you do. Come on." I sit her down on her bed, raise her arms, and pull off her shirt, replacing it with her pajama top, then take off her shoes and socks. She giggles the whole time ("It tickles!"). I tuck her in; within minutes she's knocked out. I then go and change into my own pajamas, and climb into the comfortable bed, watching the ceiling above, which really does look like sky.

For the longest time I can't sleep; finally, though, I think of Jackson, and picture him here beside me, and everything feels okay again. I relax.

And finally, I drift into unconsciousness.


	11. Me vs Her vs Tacky Sequined Platforms

"Wake up sleepy-head!" I shout cheerfully, ready for a brand new day at Hogwarts. Hattie groans, burying deeper under the covers.

"Go away green monkey!" She grumbles. I stop.

"Green monkey?"

She hisses at me. _Hisses_.

"That's it! This calls for desperate measures!" I back up, preparing to sprint. Once I'm as far away from Hattie's bed as I can get, I run towards it, and land right on top of her.

"GAAHHHHHH!" She screeches, flailing out. Our arms and legs tangle, and both of us roll off the bed and onto the floor.

And of course, there's Brigit, looking down on us, horrified. At first I don't get what she's looking so disgusted by. And then, I try and see it through her perspective: me and Hattie, on the floor, out of breath. In our pajamas. And I can't help it; I grin, and give Hattie a big hug.

"I LOOOOOVVVE you, Hattie!"

She shrieks, still disoriented from the fall, and tries to pull away from me.

"Get off me, get off me! Ouch!"

Oh dear, I seem to have elbowed her in the eye.

"You wouldn't wake up," I complain, once we're all settled again, sitting on her bed. Brigit is nowhere to be seen; she's probably out spreading the rumor that Hattie and I are lovers to the whole school. Eh. Oh, well.

"So you tackled me?!"

"Kinda, I guess. Sorry about your eye." She scowls for a few more moments, and then breaks out into a huge grin, and we both start laughing.

"So, are we going to go down to breakfast, or what?"

"Sure…but I kind of want to get ready first. You know." I say somewhat apprehensively. She squeals with glee, clapping her hands together.

"You're a girl after all!" She says happily. I scowl.

"No shit, Sherlock. I'll have you know that I love dressing up and stuff. In case you were wondering."

"I think you should go with a classic hot pants look. They're all the rage, you know."

"Not really," I grumble.

"Shut up, yes they are. And anyway; you're from America, so you have an excuse to look slutty."

"WHAT?!" I screech, insulted. "Are you saying American girls are sluts?"

"Not all of them, obviously. Probably no more than there are here. The difference between our sluts and your sluts is about four inches of fabric, though."

"I resent that!"

"I know you do. Now put these on!" She hands me a pair of hideously shiny sequined hot pants, and an electric blue top. I put them on, and then stare at myself in the mirror open-mouthed.

"Dear Lord, what have you done to me?" I wonder aloud. Hattie just has this maniacal crazy-lady look in her eyes.

"Now, for the shoes," She says breathlessly, handing me a pare of white platforms.

" _Hell_ , no!" I say, crossing my arms. "I refuse! There is no way I am wearing those."

Gawd, these shoes are uncomfortable. When I get down to the common room, Jimmy is lounging on the couch, looking bored.

"JIMMY, SAVE ME." I say, attempting to run to him and falling down, twisting my ankle. Hattie runs to me and yanks me back up.

"You're not running away; you are wearing that outfit Max!"

"You look ridiculous." Jimmy says, laughing. I scowl.

"I know! Hattie is in one of her Dictator moods today."

"James will definitely notice you, though." Jimmy grins. Hattie frowns, looking suspicious.

"Why would he need to notice you? You two are already going out, right?"

"RIGHT." I say emphatically, nodding. "I'm changing." And before she can stop me I hobble upstairs and tear off my clothes. "Ahh, much better." I pull on my school uniform; they're at least better-looking than the ones at G-WAM were. I roll up the skirt, and decide to borrow another pair of Hattie's shoes; they're black knee-high leather boots; not too slutty and with just a hint of badass. Perfect.

"Well, I guess you could do worse," Hattie says sadly. She's curling her own hair around her wand now, which is glowing. It leaves her hair bouncy and flawless.

I decide not to do anything to my hair, and just leave it down; it doesn't look too bad today, anyway. I do a number of complicated make-up spells until I am completely satisfied.

"Oooh, you look pretty!" Hattie says appreciatively. I thank her, and we head downstairs again, where Jimmy is still waiting.

"It never ceases to amaze me how women take almost ten times as long to get ready as men do," he says. "Honestly, what were you doing up there?"

I smile evilly.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Well yes, I suppose that's why I asked."

"That was supposed to be rhetorical!" I snap. He laughs, standing and following us out the door.

The great hall is already crowded once we get there; I ask Hattie to save me a seat, and hurry over to the Gryffies to say hi. I sneak up behind James, who's talking to Lily about something, and wrap him in a huge hug.

"James!" I sing, not letting him go. "How I've missed you!"

"Er—Max? What are you doing?" James turns around, looking surprised. I sit myself down in his lap, resting my head on his shoulder and closing my eyes.

"Oh, James…mmm…You smell yummy."

"Um, excuse me, but if you don't mind, we have some business to discuss." Lily says pointedly.

"Oh, I don't mind! Go right ahead!"

I don't move.

Lily clears her throat.

"Business to discuss _alone_. You know, Head boy and girl duties."

I look at James; he's not looking at me. Fine, then!

"I apologize. I didn't realize you were too busy to even say good morning to me, James. Now I see that you're… _occupied_." I stand, straightening my skirt and fixing my hair.

"Oh, and Max? You have something on your face…yes, right on you left cheek…oh dear, now you've smudged it." Lily says. My face burns with embarrassment; I feel like crying.

"Later then, I guess. James." And I strut off, trying to breathe evenly.

"What's wrong?" Hattie asks, noticing that I'm upset.

" _Lily_." I hiss, glaring over at her. "Do I have something on my face?" I ask, my voice trembling.

"No…why?"

"Oh, no reason. Why does Lily hate me so much?"

"Who knows. She's not a mean person though, not really. She's always been really nice to me; she's really intelligent. And pretty. And popular."

"You know what? This really isn't helping." I stab my fork violently into some scrambled eggs.

"She's jealous." Jimmy says, his eyes still on the newspaper he's been reading since we got here. The 'Daily Prophet' or something. "She acts like she hates James, but as soon as he even suggests the fact that he may like someone else, she gets all territorial. A classic girl tendency. She never really liked me when we were dating. I mean, at the time I thought she did…but now, things are different, and I know better…" He looks bitterly over at Lily and James, who are sitting very close to each other, having a serious conversation. James says something, and looks down; Lily frowns sympathetically, glances over me, and then places her hand on James's knee.

I stand noisily; Jimmy grabs my hand to try and anchor me to the Ravenclaw table.

"Forget it, Jimmy," I say. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt your precious Lily."

"I'm not—"

I break away from him, and storm towards James. Lily quickly takes her hand off of his knee.

"You wanna fight, Evans?" I ask loudly. She stands; she's even taller than me. Exactly James's height, I notice.

"No, I do not want to fight. And if you threaten me like that again, I will dock you points." She glares at me, and I glare right on back.

"It's on," I hiss, "It is soo on. You have no idea who you're messing with."

"And you," She steps closer to me, "Are messing with _me_ , and I am Head Girl. Congratulations, DeVough, you've just earned yourself a Saturday detention."

I gasp at the unfairness of it all.

"Lily, love, is that really nec—"

"Yes, James, it is! This little girl needs to know that we don't play games at Hogwarts!"

"No, bu—" I can tell James is going to give in to her, so I cut him off.

"Forget it, James. It's obvious where your loyalties lie." Our eyes meet, mine hurt and angry, his apologetic and confused.

I walk swiftly away from them, from all of them, anxious to be alone again. But _no_ , that would be too much to ask for. A hand taps my shoulder.

"Leave me alone!" I say, whipping around to face the intruder. It's Hattie.

"Oh, Max. Come here, let's get you to the common room." And she leads me to the Ravenclaw dorms, which is a good thing, because I'm crying so hard by the time I get there that I'd surely have gotten lost if I'd tried to get here myself. Hattie solves the riddle, and we enter. I head straight for the couch in front of the fire, still crying heartily.

"I h-hate her!" I sniff, as tears stream down my face. "And James l-loves her, and he'll never l-love meeeeee!" Hattie hugs me to her, Shhh-ing me and comforting me, and it reminds me of a mother, and that makes me cry even harder. I'm gonna need my inhaler soon if I don't watch out.

Suddenly Jimmy storms into the common room, looking mildly angry. He spots me and his face darkens further. He clenches his fist; I notice it's bruised.

"What's wrong?" I choke, reaching an arm out to him. He steps back, shrugging.

"Nothing you need to worry about, Max. Come'ere." He sits down beside me; now I have Hattie on one side of me and Jimmy on the other. "She doesn't compare, Max. She doesn't compare." He says; I'm not quite sure what he's talking about, but decide not to ask. Instead, I cry into his shirt, with Hattie stroking my hair, and the burn of rejection still in my lungs.

Classes cheer me up a bit; I've been looking forward to having a new set of teachers to make fun of for ages now. I have History first; even though I'm a year younger than James, we're still in some of the same classes. But not many; the Ravenclaws are usually pared with the Hufflepuffs for classes.

History is extremely awkward. I get there early with Jimmy (Hattie is taking some really nerdy smart-person class—Honors Arithmacy, I think. Jimmy could've if he'd wanted to, but he says he's taking this class because it's easy and helps him catch up on sleep). James comes in alone a little after we do; I think Lily must be in the smart class too. Darn. Not.

"Max, can I please talk to you?" He asks quietly.

"Piss off, Potter," Jimmy growls, stepping in front of me protectively. "You lost the right to talk to her when you helped bully her in front of half the school."

"Don't make me angry, Jimmy—I swear I'll kick your ass—"

"Stop!" I say. "Jimmy, it's fine. I'll talk to him. Thank you." Jimmy scowls, but slowly goes to sit down, not taking his eyes off of us.

"Max, please listen to me, I never thought Lily would be so rude to you; I don't know what came over her! Usually she's so polite! I told her not to pick on you any more."

"I don't care about stupid Lily!" I say exasperatedly. "I care about _you_ , James! You, and the fact that you watched as Lily bullied me and did squat! I thought you liked me!"

"I did! I mean, I do! It's just I—"

"It's just that you like her more. Of course you do. I'm not asking you to freaking _marry_ me, James! I'm just asking for a little support! Next time she picks on me, be a man and stand up to her! Sheesh! And if you don't…well, let's just say you'll be reminded how to 'grow a pare,' if you _know what I mean._ " I grin evilly. "You haven't forgotten the St. Mungo's incident, have you?"

He pales, and clutches at his chest protectively, shaking his head furiously.

"Good, then it's settled." I nod once, and then turn and start heading back to Jimmy, when James calls out, sounding quite shocked, "Did you really just threaten me?"

I turn, and smile sweetly.

"Of course not, dearest James. Why would I do such a—" I pull out my wand, quick as lightning, and brandish it at him. He flinches back, clutching his chest and whimpering.

"Mercy! Mercy! Please!"

"Hahahaha, that was definitely worth it. I wasn't actually gonna cast the spell, dipshit, I was just proving a point." And, feeling much better about everything, I walk back to Jimmy, who is looking like he might either scream or laugh.

"What the hell was that about?" He asks.

"I'll tell you later," I grin. "It's a long story."


	12. The Fight

The classes here suck, I cannot tell a lie. Seriously, there are zero teachers with any fun-potential, or any sense of humor. The only class I have with James or any of the other oldies is History; I have most of my classes with Jimmy and Hattie though, which is nice. They keep me sane, those two. Which is really saying a lot, since they're hardly sane themselves.

"If I start to fall asleep, pinch me," I whisper to Hattie during potions. Slughorn is sooo boring, and his fatness is really starting to bug me. I mean, it's not like I have a grudge against fat people or anything, it's just that every time he walks past our table his stomach bounces up and down, and knocks over our book stand. It's happened three times already.

Waddle, waddle. Bounce, bounce.

Crash!

"Oh dear, I am sooo sorry, let me pick that up for you!" This is followed by the most hideous rendition of 'bend and snap' that I have ever witnessed. So. Gross.

"Okay," Hattie nods, agreeing to my pinching request. "Oh, shit, it's starting to froth!"

I look at our potion, but there doesn't appear to be anything wrong with it. I'm about to ask Hattie what she's talking about, when I turn to see a boy, fast asleep, with drool frothing from his mouth.

"Drooly Doug, from Hufflepuff," Hattie says, looking repulsed. "Falls asleep at least twice a week in here, poor chap."

"That is soo disgusting!" I say, giggling, as Drooly Doug gives a gurgling snore.

"Oh, shit! It's gonna blow!" I turn to look at who she's looking at now, curious, to find that she's pointing to our cauldron this time. "DUCK!"

"How was I supposed to know you had to fricken stir the potion three and a _half_ times every sixty-two seconds, or it'd explode?" I'm scrubbing fiercely at the tarry gunk that's stuck to my face. "And it was totally retarded of Slughorn to give us a week of detention. I mean, honestly, nobody was killed or anything…and it's Drooly Doug's own fault that he was stabbed with a piece of exploded cauldron…he shouldn't have been sleeping in the first place!"

"I know, I know," Hattie says, wincing as she tries to tear a piece of the solidifying potion out of her hair. "Owowowowowow! Sheesh, this stuff is terrible!"

"We could always use peanut butter," I suggest half-heartedly.

"What?"

"Never mind. I don't think this is coming off!" I scrub harder at the blotch on my left cheek. Bitchy Lily is gonna have a field day. "Agghhhh!" My eyes are starting to water; this frickin hurts!

"YOU? I HAVE IT STUCK IN MY BLOODY HAIR!"

"Ok, let's just calm down…I can fix your hair."

"How?" She whines, frustrated.

"I'll just cut it."

"No!"

"I'm pretty good, actually. In case you were wondering."

"I don't doubt it, it's just…I'm scared, Max!" She starts to cry, fat tears dripping down her cheeks. Oh, brother.

"I'll make it all better," I promise. "Shh, shh, it's okay." I kinda like playing mother. I'll probably never be able to have kids of my own, so I guess I'll have to settle for comforting my friends. "I'll be right back." I race out and grab my specialty hair cutting scissors from my suitcase, and then race back to Hattie, who's trying to stop crying, and looking at her reflection critically in the mirror. "Sit."

She sits down on the edge of the bathtub, and I start by cutting off the chunk of hair that the gunk is stuck to. Her hair is sooo long, and the prettiest color; sometimes I wish I had dark hair.

"Oh my god…" She whimpers, her eyes squeezed shut.

"Shh, just relax." I run my hands through her hair, measuring the ends to decide what cut will look best. I'm thinking medium-length and choppy, with lots of layers and body. It'll look good with her face shape. Also, I'm thinking about giving her bangs. Too risky? Maybe. We'll see.

It takes me a long time to cut her hair, because I want it to look perfect. Sometime halfway through the cut she relaxes, even smiling a bit.

"You should do this for a living, you're fantastic," She sighs. "You're hands are magic."

"Well, I've had quite a bit of practice. It all started the day I set myself on fire…" I sigh, recollecting that—ahem—interesting day.

"If I wasn't so relaxed I would probably jump and say something along the lines of 'What? However did you manage to set yourself on fire, you crazy child?!'. But I won't."

"Good."

"Ha."

"Finished!" I say triumphantly after a few minutes, standing back to admire my work. "Nice!"

"Let me see!" She jumps up and looks in the mirror, and gasps, covering her mouth with her hands. "Oh, my! It's…it's…it's half decent!"

"Thanks a lot." I vanish the hair clippings from the floor and the bathtub. "You owe me."

"Yes!" She throws her arms around me, hugging me and squealing excitedly. "You are amazing, I look at least nineteen!"

"Suf—foc—ating…" I gasp, trying to pull her off of me.

"Just wait till Ben sees me; he won't be able to resist…" Her voice fades as she turns slowly scarlet. "Sorry. I temporarily forgot you were siblings."

"I forgive you. You're lucky you only got that stuff in your hair; the stuff on my face still won't come off!" I look sadly at the oily blob.

"You could go to the nurse," Hattie suggests.

"No way! And risk being seen on the way there? Not happening. Don't you know any spells that'd work?"

"No…but I know someone who might…Jimmy!"

"…Jimmy?"

"Yeah, he'll know. Come on!" She grabs me by the arm and starts dragging me out of the bathroom, but I dig my heels into the ground to stop her.

"I can't let him see me like this!" I screech, horrified by the thought. Hattie conjures a cloth bag and before I can protest puts it over my head.

"Hey! Hey, I can't see anything! Let me out!" But we're moving, moving, stumbling down the steps, and finally stopping. Stopping, stopping. Moving again. I trip on my way upstairs; wait, why are we going upstairs? Hattie knocks on a door. The door creaks open. I'm shoved inside; I fall forward, yelping, and am caught at the last second. I hear Hattie's muffled voice.

"Please Jimmy, you have to help her! She looks like there's a giant blob trying to swallow her face!"

"Hey!" I yell, my voice muffled. "Let me out!" Suddenly the bag is ripped off my head; I gasp, blinking at the bright light.

"Oh my _God_." Jimmy says. "You're right, it's hideous!"

"Hey! That's my face you're talking about!" I say angrily.

"Come here. And don't mind them; they're only idiots." He nods towards the other boys in his dormitory, leading me to his bed. I sit down, Hattie sitting down beside me. I don't look around the room at the guys in it, who are all probably staring at me, and my giant welt thingy. I'm too embarrassed. Jimmy reaches out a hand and gently touches my cheek; I lean into his touch slightly, comforted by it. "Hmmm. Well, I'm not sure, but maybe this will work. _Agito absentis!_ " A stream of deep blue sparks shoots from his wand, and caresses my face. I sigh; it's like a soft, gloved hand is brushing my cheek, a velvety warm wind tickling my hair. "There." He lowers his wand.

"Do it again!" I sigh. "That felt sooo good…" At this the other guys in the room crack up, trying to muffle their laughter with their pillows.

"Come here and I'll do it for you!" A short, skinny, pug-nosed boy with curly black hair says suggestively.

"Be careful what you wish for," I respond, shrugging. Jimmy lays back on his bed, closing his eyes.

"That all?" He asks unconcernedly.

"Yup! Thanks, Jimbo."

"Any time. Oh, and did you do something to your hair today, Hattie? It looks nice." He says without opening his eyes. Hattie beams, and hugs me again.

"It's all thanks to Max. She's amazing, Jimmy! Her hands are fan _tastic_!"

A couple of the guys cough nervously; Jimmy's eyes flicker open.

"You cut hair?" He asks, curious.

"Yep! But I won't cut yours, Jimmy. You just wouldn't be the same without the dreads."

"Oh, don't worry, these guys aren't going anywhere." He shakes his head, and his dreadlocks fling from side to side, whipping me in the face. I laugh, shielding myself from his hair.

"Truce, truce!" He stops, grinning.

"Well, come on Max, we'd better get back to our room. Lots of homework to do, you know."

"Wait…you actually _do your homework_?" This is a totally new concept to me. At G-WAM I never did any out-of-school assignments. Ever. It's amazing I didn't fail every class.

"Yeah…or else you'll end up getting a T."

"T?"

"Troll."

"Eh, I've heard worse," I say, shrugging unconcernedly. "Anyway, I've gotta practice my violin. I haven't played in awhile." I cheer up at the thought; I looove my violin. Practicing kinda sucks, but it's been so long I'm actually looking forward for a little run-through of the songs I wrote. Yes, I just said 'the songs I wrote.' I love writing music; of course, I've only written one song so far, but that's beside the point. The song is called "Purple Moose in the Shadowy Darkness of the Night." I kind of had a hard time writing that down all the time, though, so I just shortened it to "Purple Moose." It's going to be the next classic.

"Can I listen?" Jimmy asks. "I mean, I love music."

"Even though you don't play any instrument." I say skeptically. He nods.

"I'm too lazy, plus I'm basically completely tone deaf. Can't keep a tune to save my life." He smiles lazily.

"I don't believe you!"

"Okay you two, break it up!" Hattie says, sounding cross. "Come on Max, let's _go_!"

"Okay, okay. Sheesh! Seeya, Jimbo! I'll be practicing in about ten minutes, probably. And there's a good chance that I might suck; I haven't practiced in ages. Not since—" I pause, shake my head, and then nod and follow Hattie out of the room, closing the door firmly behind me. Phew. That was a close one.

Once we're back in our room I rush to the bathroom to look at my face. Woah! That must have been one powerful spell. The whole left side of my face is completely flawless; the skin, that is. No more blemishes or scars; my face is completely clear! Wahoooo!

I race back out of the bathroom, point out my discovery to Hattie (who says she doesn't see a difference and that I'm crazy), and grab my violin case.

"Are you sure you don't want to listen to me, Hat?"

"I do, it's just I have so much homework, and it's impossible to concentrate with you around."

"Okay, okay. Another time, then." I head out the door and back down to the common room. Jimmy isn't here yet; I decide to get my violin out and do some warm-ups. It's a magical violin, so it's always in tune and always has a resin-ed bow. I play a few scales, and am finally getting the hang of it again when I see Jimmy out of the corner of my eye. I stop playing, and turn to face him. "Hey! Okay, so first I'm gonna play the song I wrote for you. Then…we'll see." He nods, laying down on the couch.

The song starts low, a sweet, sad melody, and then soars higher; my fingers trip and fly over the keys, moving faster and faster, the notes a lively, bright harmony. The song dances, twirling and spinning, prancing through the room. When I finish with a flourish, there's a small and scattered round of applause. I bow, and look at Jimmy for feedback.

"Impressive," he nods, smiling. I grin. "Play another!"

I think for awhile; there was this one song, I never did learn the name of it, that my mom used to sing to me.

"Okay, I have one. My mom used to sing this to me, before she died." I set my bow and close my eyes, and start to play. Immediately the difference between this song and the last is obvious. While the other one was staccato and cheerful, this one is slow, sad, and somber, with longer, deeper, crying notes and vibrato phrases. I can hear her voice singing along with me, sweet and slow, can feel her hand stroking my hair. I translate this into the song, and it gains strength, becomes raw and pained, reflects the sorrow I feel right now. My eyes are still closed; tears slip from them, quiet and quick, dripping down my cheeks. My hands shake.

I know I should stop playing, because it's upsetting and I'll end up hurting my lungs, but I can't make myself stop, even when I'm sobbing and my fingers can hardly move any more.

"Oh, Max," I hear Jimmy says; he's right beside me, taking the violin from my shaking hands and hugging me comfortingly to him. "Don't cry." I feel safe in his arms, like nothing can hurt me. Kind of like James makes me feel. _Made_ me feel. I still can't believe he hurt me like that, in front of the whole school. Stupid Lily.

I gasp as I'm suddenly whooshed off me feet, into Jimmy's arms. I try to stop crying enough to protest, but he doesn't listen. Instead, he starts walking towards the door. Now I really start fighting him; I don't wanna be seen in this weakened state.

"S-stop!" I gasp; my lungs are starting to burn, and I ignore them. "Put me down!" He stops, and slowly sets me onto my feet. I'm wheezing, clutching at my throat and trying to slow my breathing. I choke out the words "Accio inhaler!" and nearly collapse, steadying myself just in time. The inhaler soars into my hands and I stick it roughly in my mouth, sucking in.

I can breathe! I can breathe! I sigh, relieved, and my eyes momentarily shut.

"Max!" Jimmy says sharply, grabbing me roughly by the arm. "What the hell was that?"

"Asthma." I say, standing. "I'm okay."

"Come. We're telling your brother. Now."

"No! I said I'm fine! Plus it's after hours; we'll get in trouble!"

"Come on." He drags me out the door and into the hallway, walking briskly down the flights of steps until we get to the Gryffindor common room. I'm panting again by the time we get there. We stop at the Fat Lady's portrait, and she asks for the password.

"Amortenia," Jimmy says. Wait. How the hell does he know the password? The portrait swings open, and we crawl in the whole.

"Please don't make me do this, Jimmy," I plead quietly and we exit the other side, into the cozy-looking common room. "I'm begging you."

"No! I want to make sure you're okay."

"I told you, I'm fine!"

"Just trust me." He grabs my hand and leads me through the still-crowded common room, to where Ben and some other guys are standing in a corner. "Oi! Ben!"

My brother looks over; he goes from looking calm and happy to looking worried, and rushes over to us.

"What happened? Are you okay?" He grabs me by the shoulders and looks me in the eye.

"I basically just coughed, and Jimmy freaked out!" I say, annoyed. "Sheesh, I'm fine!"

"She was… _choking_ , and—and clutching her throat…I thought she was dying!" Jimmy whispers darkly. Ben pales, but doesn't say anything, at least not for awhile.

"Max, I want you to stay here for tonight, okay? Just so I know you're alright. You can sleep in my bed; I'll take the floor."

"No way!" I say, crossing my arms and pulling away from him.

"Yes. I i-insist. Jimmy, you can leave now. Thank you, for bringing her here." He pats Jimmy on the back. Suddenly, a fourth person joins the party.

"What's wrong?"

"Go away!" Jimmy, Ben and I all say at once, turning to glare at James.

"Are you okay, Max? It's not your lungs, is it?"

"Mind your own business!" I say, glaring daggers at him. "I mean, come on, like you really care."

Jimmy steps in front of me, so he's right in front of James. They're almost exactly the same height.

"Piss. Off." He hisses, jaw and fists clenched. "Or I swear, Potter, I'll wreck that pretty little face of yours."

"Calm down! I just am concerned for her—"

"Concerned? CONCERNED? Why don't you try and say that again, Potter!"

"What's your problem, man? Back off!"

I can tell that James is about to shove Jimmy, and step between the two.

"Get out." Jimmy growls, not looking at me.

"No! You're both being stupid! James, back up and calm the hell down! Jimmy, stop threatening James!"

"I'm sorry. You're right." Jimmy turns away from James, and I move triumphantly out from my place between him and James. And suddenly, Jimmy whips around again, and punches James in the face, and the fight is on. Oh, brother.

The brawl attracts a good number of spectators in only seconds, all of them cheering for either James or Jimmy. It's proof of Jimmy's popularity that even some Gryffindors choose his side over James's. Ben just shakes his head, rolling his eyes.

"I ask you," He mutters, taking my hand. "Come on, let's get you up to my room."

"No way! We have to stop them, Ben! They'll _kill_ each other!"

"Nah…they were friends once, I think. They won't really hurt each other. And anyway, James deserves his revenge, for that time Jimmy punched him in the great hall."

"WHAT?"

"You know, after Lily was bitching and you stormed off all upset."

"He punched him?!"

"Yep. Didn't say anything, just walked up to him, punched him in the face, and walked away."

"And what did James do?"

"Well, he just kinda sat there, looking shocked. And then Lily was all over him. She's really hot, you know. Speaking of hot, where's your friend; the one who has a thing for me?"

"Hattie's not here," I say obviously, still watching James and Jimmy, who are now on the floor. "Stop them, Ben, _please_!"

"No way! I'm not getting involved."

"Fine then! I'll just have to do it myself!" I roll up my sleeves, and before Ben can stop me, I jump into the fight-pile. It's all a big confusion of arms, legs, elbows, and fists; I try to drag the two apart. "STOP!" I yell, but they don't listen.

"This is for my black eye!" James yells, pulling back his fist. I scream, jumping in front of Jimmy at the last moment. James's fist connects with my face, sending a fiery pain down my whole body as my nose breaks and blood explodes everywhere.

"MAX!" Ben yells as I crumple, clutching my face. Blood leaks from between my fingers, hot and bitter.

"LOOK WHAT YOU DID!" I hear Jimmy scream through the rushing in my ears.

"Oh, my god…" Ben is beside me, his hands on my back. His voice is shaking. "There's so much blood…"

"It hurts…" I groan, dizzy. "Benny, make it stop…" My voice seems to flip a switch in him; he picks me up and runs, out of the portrait hole and away. It doesn't take long to reach the Nurses' room; by the time we do, I feel extremely faint.

"Nurse! NURSE!" Ben calls frantically into the dark, empty room. A young woman rushes over to us, still in her nightgown.

"Good lord, what's the matter?" She asks, motioning for Ben to set me down on a cot. She takes one look at my face and sighs in relief. "She just broke her nose. I can have it healed in ten minutes. She should stay the night though; she's lost a lot of blood." I have to take a blood-replenishing potion, and some other potions to put me to sleep. She cleans me up and fixes my nose, and the last thing I remember is Ben looking worriedly at me, right before I fell asleep.

"Max? Max?"

Ugh, I'm tired. I groan.

"Max? Can you hear me?"

They sound familiar. Hmmm.

"Max?"

"Okay, okay!" I grumble, forcing my eyes open. The room is bright now, filled with sunlight.

"It's me. James."

I look at him. He's pale, and has dark circles under his eyes, whether from the fight or from loss of sleep it's hard to tell.

"Hi," I whisper. "Where's Ben? Jimmy?"

"At breakfast. They slept here with you. They—they wouldn't let me see you; I had to sneak in." He bows his head. "I'm so sorry, Max, you have no idea…when I saw you, and all that blood…" He looks up, his eyes large. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"Come here," I whisper, still a little doped up on medication. He scoots closer to me; I reach up and touch his face lightly, stroking his cheek. "I forgive you for hitting me. It was an accident." I say. He sighs, grabbing my hand and kissing it.

"Thank you, Max. I don't deserve your forgiveness."

His face is close, so close…

"Wait!" I say suddenly. "I said that I forgive you…for hitting me. But…I can't, yet anyway, forgive you for the way you treated me in front of Lily."

He sighs, looking ashamed.

"I know, I know. It's just…haven't you ever wanted something so badly it hurts? Since I met her I've wanted Lily that badly…now that I almost have her, I feel like everything is perfect. Except for you. I can't see how you fit into this, Max…all I know is that I…I really, really like you too…" he moves closer to me; it's like I'm burning, from the inside out, only it's not that unpleasant, this sensation. His lips lower to mine; they're soft and warm, and kissing James is just like I thought it would be, maybe even better than I imagined.

"I'm sorry, Max. So, so sorry…mmm, you're beautiful…" he whispers against my lips, his hand moving to my hair. Suddenly, there's a noise in the doorway. James pulls quickly away from me. I turn also.

It's Lily.

"L-Lily!" James says, his hands jumping to his hair like they always do when he's nervous. "What are you doing here?"

"Finding you. We have duties to perform, Potter. Come on." Her voice is too cheerful, too happy. I blink.

"I'll be there in a second, Lily." James say, turning back to me. "Max…" he breaths. "Max." And then he leaves, leaves with Lily. Of course. Of course, he leaves with Lily. I roll my eyes, then close them, and try to fall asleep again, and forget this ever happened. Any of this.

All of this.


	13. Stalkerish Behavior

I wake up again, this time alone, and immediately realize three things. One, I'm weaker. I mean, I know the doctors always said that with every physical or emotional trauma I go through my chances of living a long and fruitful life lessen monumentally, but I didn't really think of me getting punched in the face by my "boyfriend" as being all that physically traumatic. Emotionally? _Maybe_. Two, my lungs hurt, and for no apparent reason. And three, Ben can't hear about any of this.

Why? Because he'll know. I think I know too, deep inside. The symptoms are progressing. For my parents, it went from occasional attacks to almost daily ones, and every day they got weaker and weaker, until Ben and I had to start spooning food into their mouths. Ben tried to protect me from seeing them so weak; they all did. But I saw.

I remember my first attack; it happened during a soccer tournament, on one of the rare occasions that my parents even got to see me play during their illness. We were still tied 0-0 when it happened; I don't even know why exactly. I was probably hit by the ball or something. Anyway, my parents knew right away what was wrong. They took me to the hospital, and I still remember the looks on my parents' faces, and my brother's. My mom was sobbing, my dad trying weakly to comfort her; my brother just stared and stared, not blinking, until his eyes teared up and started burning. Then he blinked, and all at once the tears fell down his face, too.

We lost that game, I found out later. 1-0; the other team had scored right after I left, and my team hadn't been able to come back.

I try and sit up; my arms feel like rubber. I pull myself onto my feet. I can stand, but it's harder. I'll have to work at it. Without consulting with Madam Pomfrey I leave the hospital wing, my limbs sore from lying still for basically two days. I see a few people in the hall, but they don't notice me.

By the time I make it to the Ravenclaw common room, a pounding is starting up in my head, a dull throbbing pain.

"Listen, whoever you are, please, can you do me an enormous favor and forgo the riddle? My head feels like it's about to implode."

"You do look rather pale…very well, I will give you a simple one. If there are three oranges and you take away two, how many oranges do you have?"

I pause.

"Okay, I'm not _that_ stupid. Two."

The voice laughs, and the door swings open, allowing me entrance. Thank God. I pull myself in, and look around immediately, trying to spot Jimmy or Hattie. Both are sitting in their usual spots, reading ridiculously thick books.

"Hey guys." I say, trying to sound normal. "What are you guys reading, the Phonebook for all of Europe?"

"Close," Hattie says, putting the book down. "How are you feeling?"

"Well, actually—"

"You shouldn't be out of the hospital wing. You look ill."

"Shut your mouth, Jimmy. Hey, by the way, what does Jimmy stand for?" I'm trying to get him off topic. It works, kind of. He gives me a large, evil grin.

"James." He says. I just stare at him.

"You're shitting me!" I say accusingly. He laughs.

"My parents still call me James. I changed it to Jimmy because when…when Potter and I were friends, it got too confusing for everyone else."

"Oh." I say stupidly. "Well."

There's a short silence, during which I am driven to remember the pain in my chest. It's not unbearable, it really isn't, but it's not exactly pleasant, either. Suddenly I remember something.

"Hey Jimmy, what day is it? Of the week?"

"Friday…"

"Shit! I've got that frickin detention tomorrow! What do you think Lily will make me do?"

"Nothing terrible. Probably cleaning or sorting files or something. If you're really unlucky you might end up working for Filch, the bugger. He's the bitchy janitor-type. They call him 'caretaker' but it's all a steaming pile of shite if you ask me."

"You have some strong feelings concerning this guy," I notice, grinning. My face falls when I think of the things Lily will make me do. I just _know_ it'll be something bad.

"DeVough! Come!" Lily calls me over to her table, looking abnormally pleased with herself. I give an internal groan, exchange looks with Hattie and Jimmy, and stomp on over to the redhead. James stands when I arrive, and extends his arms. I'm confused at first, but after a moment of hesitation walk into his embrace. He whispers quietly in my ear, so that Lily can't hear, "Don't worry. She's promised me she won't give you anything too harsh."

I pull away from him just a bit, and give him a questioning glance. I haven't seen him since The Kiss. I lean in an infinitesimal amount, and he doesn't pull away. I wait for him.

And he kisses me! There, right in front of everyone, he kisses me! I'm so surprised I almost lose my balance, and he has to tighten his grip on me. His lips are warm and soft.

"Ahem!"

James pulls slowly away from me, his eyes shining. He's smiling. And so am I; smiling so hugely that it almost hurts. I feel a slow blush creep up into my cheeks.

"Your detention will be tomorrow at noon, out on the Quidditch pitch. You'll be cleaning the posts before the Quidditch season begins. I don't want to see a speck of dirt on them, either, okay? You'll work until you finish, no breaks."

"Lily, that's ridiculous! She'll miss lunch! Plus, do you have any idea how hot it'll be out there?" James looks furious.

"It's fine, James!" I say brightly. Truth be told, I'm ecstatic about the chore she's given me. I get to fly again! And Ben can't stop me! But he'll sure as hell try to.

"Lily, she can't fly," Ben tries to explain. "What I mean is, she's not supposed to. No physical activity except for walking. Can't you change her job?" Ben, who just poked his head into the conversation, pleads. Lily shakes her head, looking falsely regretful.

"I'm sorry, Ben, but I've already arranged it. It can't be undone."

Ben slumps, running a hand through his hair. "But—"

"She'll be fine, I'm sure," Lily says, patting my brother on the back and leaving her hand there a second longer than necessary. The moment her stupid hands touch him, I completely lose it. I break away from James and storm up, until I'm right in Lily's face.

"Touch him like that again. Go on, I dare you," I hiss threateningly. Her eyes are wide, lips pinched in fury.

"You think you're so tough, do you? Just because you're different? Well, I could beat you in a second; your magical skill is pathetic compared to mine. So don't cross me, DeVough. And back off, or I'll give you another detention."

I move closer; our foreheads are so close they're practically touching.

"Why don't you try and make me?" I ask slowly. "Huh? Or is the wittle wedhead too chicken?" I mock. I know it's immature, but I just can't stop myself.

I don't think anybody expects what happens next; suddenly I'm sent flying, no, _soaring_ backwards, and land on my butt, just saving my head from hitting the floor by wrapping it in my arms. The breath is literally knocked out of me; I stand, wobbling forward, trying to breath. Where did I put the damn inhaler? I don't even have enough breath to accio for it. Lucky for me, Ben is there, and summons it for me.

While we're waiting for it to come, the world around me changes. The oxygen deprivation warps and twists things, and the noise of peoples' voices is drowned out by the rushing of blood in my ears. I look towards the Ravenclaw table; most of them haven't realized anything is even going on, but Hattie and Jimmy are rushing towards me. They seem to be moving in slow motion. My vision is fading.

And suddenly, I can breath again. I suck in the inhaler medicine, choking on it, gasping for breath.

By now there are about a bazillion people around me, including Dumbledore and McGonagall.

"I would ask if you are alright, but I fear that much is quite obvious, and such a question would be all but pointless," Dumbledore says, sighing. "Back to Madam Pomfrey's, then? Come on now, let's get you up…that's a girl…" He helps me to my feet; I'm shaking, shivering so much I can hardly stand. "Mr. DeVough, could you give me a hand?"

Ben hurries to us, and picks me up in his arms, like he's always been able to do. He's so strong, my brother.

"Minerva, I trust you will deal with Miss Evans?" Dumbledore asks. Professor McGonagall nods curtly, eyebrows so drawn she looks like some sort of raptor. I look at Lily; she's stunned, her mouth hanging open and her already large eyes widened further.

"I'm coming," James says firmly.

"So are we!" Hattie pipes up; Jimmy's standing beside her, staring at me, no expression on his face. He blinks. I look away.

"Very well, very well…I suppose I cannot stop you!" Dumbledore says cheerfully, knowing full well that he could. I mean, come on, besides being the most powerful wizard ever, he's the frickin principal of the school!

"Max, are you okay? You fell pretty hard."

"I'm fine!" I insist. "I don't need to go to the nurse's room, I swear. I just need some rest. I can't…I can't walk all that well," I admit. Dumbledore frowns.

"I see. And you are quite sure that you needn't visit Poppy?"

"Positive."

"Very well then. Mr. Smith, would you be so kind as to take her to your dormitory?"

Jimmy nods, jaw clenched.

"I can carry her," Ben insists.

"Ben, I'm fine. My butt hurts, that's all. I swear."

"Are you sure? Positive? Coz I can come too, it won't be a problem-"

"Jimmy will take good care of me."

"O-okay, then…" He hands me over to Jimmy; I feel so light in his arms.

"You're so light!" Jimmy says, sounding surprised. I scowl.

"Your astonishment stings."

"No, I didn't…I mean, that's not what I—" he sighs. Hmmm…I kinda like it when he's flustered!

The pain in my chest is more severe now than it was, but I don't cringe or flinch. Ben can't see me weak, or else he'll suspect…he'll know.

"Max, I'm so sorry…I can't believe she did that…" James says, looking as stunned as Lily did at first. "I had n-no idea!" He leans over me and strokes my face, hands shaking ever so slightly. He swallows, grimaces. "I'll come to see you in a little while…first, I have some business to attend to." He looks over towards Lily, who's being interrogated by McGonagall, tears streaming down her perfect face.

"I didn't do it, I swear! It wasn't me!" She's sobbing. "I swear!"

I frown, and stop trying to listen to her voice.

"Thanks," I whisper. "Jimmy, please, let's go…" I tug at his sleeve and he looks down at me and nods.

Hattie says she'll meet us in the common room, and that she has a book she needs to return to the library first, so Jimmy and I are left alone, as he carries me through the halls and up the moving staircases to the Ravenclaw Tower, where we wait for the riddle.

"A man was to be sentenced, and the judge told him, "You may make a statement. If it is true, I'll sentence you to four years in prison. If it is false, I'll sentence you to six years in prison." After the man made his statement, the judge decided to let him go free. What did the man say?"

Jimmy frowns, thinking. He ponders over the questions for a minute before answering.

"He said, "You'll sentence me to six years in prison." If it was true, then the judge would have to make it false by sentencing him to four years. If it was false, then he would have to give him six years, which would make it true. Rather than contradict his own word, the judge set the man free."

"Well reasoned!" The voice says cheerfully. I roll my eyes.

"Oh, please. I would have just said that the man said, "You will either sentence me to four or six years in prison," but then you go and have a whole complex answer thing going on. Like usual. Smart-ass."

He grins down at me, and walks through the door. There are lots of people in the common room, and it's fairly loud. He pauses.

"You should get some sleep," He says. "But it's too loud down here. And I can't take you to your room, because of that god-damned curse that's on the steps…thanks to the Marauders…so how about you sleep in my room?" He says this nonchalantly. For some reason I think I'm blushing.

"O-okay," I say. He carries me up and lays me down in his bed.

"Do you need anything?" He asks. "You can borrow a t-shirt, if you want something to, you know…sleep in…" now he's the one a bit pink in the cheeks. Well, I'll be darned, the boy can actually feel!

"No thanks, I'm fine. I'm just so t-tired…"

"Go to sleep, then," he mutters. "Here, I'll go downstairs so I don't bother you."

He's about to leave when I stop him.

"Jimmy wait…please stay with me. Please." He pauses, then turns and looks at me.

"Okay," He says, smiling. I smile back. I close my eyes. I sleep.

I wake up cozy, but feeling oddly bare. I look down at myself; I'm sprawled out on Jimmy's bed, the covers twisted at my feet, my skirt and shirt riding a bit too high. I look around the room; Jimmy's still here, but he's hidden in shadow at the moment.

"Are you p-p-painting?" I ask, yawning.

"Yup. I'm painting you, so if you wouldn't mind holding still…"

I shoot up in bed.

"WHAT? BUT I DON'T EVEN LOOK HOT NOW! I mean…umm…why are you painting me? Isn't that sort of, oh I don't know, stalkerish behavior?"

He grins, not bothered at all by the fact that I just called him a stalker.

"You look so…different when you're asleep. So _peaceful_. Which is a really weird descriptive word, and one not commonly associated with you."

"Thanks."

"You talk in your sleep, you know," He says quietly, his eyes boring into mine.

"What do I say?" I ask nervously.

"A lot. You say a lot." He says vaguely, turning his gaze from mine.

"Just tell me, Jimmy, please!"

"About someone named Jackson, mainly. But also about James, and Ben, and m—I mean, Hattie," He covers. I grin, relieved. At least I didn't go blabbing about my parents or anything. That would have been bad.

"So, I talked about you, did I? What exactly did I say?"

"It was mostly jibberish…" he says, but I don't believe him.

"Come on!"

"Fine, fine…you said—you said that you want to snuggle with my dreadlocks. Or something."

I stare at him for a minute, and then burst into laughter.

"Hey, it's not funny!" He says. I stand up and walk over to him, grabbing one of his dreadlocks and rubbing it up against my cheek, 'mmmm'-ing.

"Oooh, you sexy dreadlock, how I love you…"

He snatches his hair away from me protectively.

"I feel so _violated,_ " he says, shuddering. "Careful, or my dreadlocks and I might just sue you for sexual harassment!"

Suddenly the door flies opened.

"What's this I hear about sexual harassment, and why the _hell_ wasn't I invited?" One of Jimmy's especially noxious roomies asks.

"And who might you be?" I ask him. I don't recognize him; I mean, I've seen him around, but never talked to him or anything. He's pretty hot, in a blond-surfer-boy sort of way, but he doesn't look the brightest (I know, I know, he's in Ravenclaw. So what? I mean, so am I, and I'm certainly not the brightest bulb in the—er—bulbery. Wow I think I messed that up somehow). I'm surprised he can even compose words and sentences, honestly; all I expected to come out was a grunt.

"Dick Van Holsen, at your service!" He says, winking.

"I sincerely hope you're kidding," I say.

"Nope! So, you're the famous Max…not too shabby, I must admit." He walks around me, looking me up and down a couple times. "Of course, I'm more of a brunette type myself, but…"

"Whoa! Down, boy!" I say, glaring at him. "What gave you the idea that you could talk to me?"

"A feisty one! I like a little spirit in my conquests."

"Hey, Dick? Make like a hockey player and get the puck out of here," I say, remembering a joke I once heard.

"Hockey? What's hockey?" He deadpans, scratching his blond head. " _Ooooohhh_ …hockey as in tonsils?"

"I see your intelligence is limited to only include vulgar terms referring to sex and making out," I say. "Go Ravenclaws! The smart House!" I give a sarcastic whoop. "No wait, let me guess…your dad is the owner of some huge company, and you're a home-grown millionaire. You probably participate in illegal drug trafficking, and, oh yeah, have never held onto a girlfriend for more than two weeks. And you're wearing pink boxers."

He just stares at me for a long, long time, mouth opened in what I expect is shock.

"Whoa, man, you're girlfriend's a psychic!" He says then, looking impressed. "But just so you know, they're not pink, they're red—"

"—Mixed with white, which makes pink. Exactly. Oh no, Dick, don't tell me you put your reds and whites together in the wash!" I say, looking horrified.

"You're a bitch!" He says self-consciously, hugging himself. "But I'll ignore that glitch because you're hot."

"And I'll ignore the 'glitch' of you being an asshole because…hmm, funny, I see no reason to ignore it."

"Now that's what I'm talking about," He grins, winks at me, and struts out of the room again, probably doing his idea of a sexy walk.

"I'm sorry, I must not have been clear. Is 'asshole' a compliment in Europe, because it sure isn't in America."

Jimmy laughs, shaking his head. "No, Dick is just…well, Dick. There's really no other way to describe him. Hey, how did you know all that stuff about him?"

"Well, I pretty much just combined every cliché white rich-boy jackass television character and threw them into one, and voila! We have a match! Plus, you know, his boxers were showing."

"And what would you say about me?" He asks slowly.

"You already told me about your childhood, Jimmy."

"Ha." He just shakes his head and starts cleaning up his paints. "Well, the lighting is wrecked now. I'll have to work on this later, I guess."

"Can I see it?"

"No!"

"Pwetty pwease? For me?" I plead, pouting. He rolls his eyes.

"Fiiiine. But it's really bad…I'm not really good at doing realistic paintings." He holds the painting out to me; I look at it critically.

"Well, I suppose it could be worse," I say, shrugging. "No, seriously though, this is amazing. Can I keep it when you're done?"

"Wouldn't that be a little weird, hanging a picture of yourself by your bed?"

"Hmm, I see your point…never mind then. Looks good!" The painting is done with acrylics, in small, tight strokes, and honestly he makes me look way prettier than I really am. He's right; I do look peaceful while I'm asleep. When thoughts of my impending doom don't captivate my mind, when all thoughts of drama disappear. He painted my hair with the gold metallic color, mixed with streaks of goldenrod and honey.

"Can I have that back now?" He asks. I jump, almost having forgotten that he was in the room with me.

"Oh, yeah, of course." I hand him the painting. "So…what now? Should we go down to the common room?"

"Yeah. It's pretty late; you didn't sleep that long, actually. Only a couple of hours. Do you want to go to your bed?"

"That sounds good."

"How's your breathing?"

"Great."

"Good." He offers me a hand. I don't need it, but I take it anyway. It's so large, compared to mine. He leads me downstairs, into the empty common room; we pause in front of the staircase to the girls' dormitory.

"Thank you, Jimmy. You're a real friend," I say, hugging him tightly. He's tense at first, but then relaxes, and hugs me back.

"That's what I'm here for. To be your friend." He says, almost bitterly. I pull away.

"What is it? Is it something I said?"

"No, no. Never mind. I'm glad to be your friend, Max. I—call me if you need anything, okay?"

I smile, nodding.

"Okay."

And we part.


	14. Let the Ferns Fall Where They May

I don't get much sleep; I'm not actually all that tired, since I slept most of yesterday and the day before. Instead I compile a list. Lists are great, they really are.

TEN THINGS TO DO BEFORE I DIE

1\. Actually get an O on a homework assignment  
2\. Fly again  
3\. Go skinny-dipping in the Great Lake  
4\. Learn to burp the alphabet backwards  
5\. Get a tattoo  
6\. Have sex  
7\. Get a hangover  
8\. Go streaking at a Quidditch game  
9\. Blow a bubble larger than my head  
10\. See Jackson again

The list shouldn't be too difficult to complete; I could probably do at least three of them in one night, if push came to shove. I fold the list up and stuff it in my suitcase, under all my socks and underwear, where nobody will go looking (hopefully).

I lay back in bed, not thinking anything really, just lying there. I'm completely zoned out when a sound startles me out of my trance: the door's opening! It creaks; I hear quiet footsteps. I close my eyes, pretending to be asleep, not daring to reach for my wand. The footsteps draw nearer; I can sense someone looming over me.

"Max?"

My eyes shoot open and I sit up so quickly the blood rushes to my head, temporarily turning my vision fuzzy. Once it clears I see James, in his adorable navy and gold pajamas, his hair even more ruffled than usual.

"Max?" He asks again. I scoot over, making room for him, and he slowly sits beside me. Without a word he reaches up, and strokes some hair out of my eyes, his face serious. He leans slowly forward, until I can make out every scar, every freckle on his handsome face. His eyes flutter shut before mine do, thick dark lashes against pale skin; his lips brush lightly against mine, not staying there long. He looks at me questioningly, as if for confirmation. I pull him to me again, and this time the kisses are harder and faster, and shorter in between.

Our breathing grows ragged, and I know I should stop, should rest my lungs, but I don't want to. I can't. But I have to. I pull away, breathing strained, and look at James, whose chest is heaving, his face flushed in the moonlight.

"I came to check on you," He says. "To make sure you're okay…listen, Max, I don't think Lily was the one to hurt you."

"I know," I say. "I don't think so either." I don't want to talk about Lily, dammit! "How did you get up here? I thought boys couldn't get into the girls' dormitories."

He grins wickedly, his eyes mischievous. He leans in, so that his lips are almost touching my ear.

"It's a secret," he whispers, his warm breath giving me goose bumps. He kisses my neck, lips warm and soft; I sigh, my eyes falling shut.

"You should go," I say sadly, because I know it's true. As much as I want him to stay all night, I know it won't do me any good to ruin my lungs.

"In a little," he says, his mouth finding mine again. We kiss for what feels like hours, until the sun starts slowly peeking into the room, drenching everything in a soft, golden light. We're lying next to each other, his fingers stroking my face, my hair, and I'm so happy I swear I would float if you threw me out the window right now.

"Now you should really go," I say softly, too relaxed to move.

"But I don't want to!" He says, giving me a quick, light kiss. "I really like you, Max…" He kisses me again, and I smile against his lips.

"I really like you, too," I say.

Suddenly the other girls are stirring; Hattie is the first one to sit up, rubbing sleepily at her eyes. I tense, but James stays relaxed.

"Max, is that you?" She asks, yawning.

"It's me, alright," I say.

"OMIGOD!" Another voice screeches; I'm guessing that it's Brigit's. "Is that a BOY in your bed?"

"No, it's a girl," I say sarcastically. "Of course it's a boy! Sheesh! James, say hello."

"Hello," He says cheerfully, turning to look at Brigit. Her face turns bright red and she stutters some sort of greeting, before running into the bathroom, probably to fix her hair.

Amber and Manda just turn around and try to go back to sleep, but Hattie jumps up, looking excited.

"Ooooh, you two are so cute!" She squeals. "How long have you been in here, James?"

"Ummmmm…" He says, looking over at me. I grin.

"Long enough," I answer, sitting up. "Okay, come on lover boy, let's go get some breakfast," I say, pulling James up. "You can go wait for me downstairs, right? I have to change."

He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it, nods, and then heads downstairs. The minute he's gone, Hattie's happy-look falls, and she plops down on my bed, looking somber.

"Well, if that wasn't the biggest mood-swingin' display of bi-polar disorder I've ever seen, I don't know what would be," I say. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, you really don't know?" She looks almost pityingly at me.

"Know what?" I ask blankly.

"I was sure you at least suspected…about Jimmy…well, I think I'll let you figure it out for yourself."

"What about Jimmy?" I ask, frowning. How did Jimmy get brought into this conversation? Hattie just smiles that small smile of hers. "Fine, don't tell me! What should I wear?"

"Well, it's a Saturday, so you can wear whatever you want…I mean, I guess you still have that detention later, right?"

"Oh…yeah…" My mood lifts even higher. I get to fly again! Yipeeee!

"Hey, listen Max…I saw something, when you and Lily had that fight. I think I know who hurt you."

"Who?" I ask, not really caring.

"Severus Snape."

"Why? I didn't do anything to him!" I say indignantly.

"Well…he has this thing for Lily; everyone knows it. Everyone but Lily. Anyway, he probably was trying to protect her."

"Yeah, well. Whatever. I am sooo over it." I yawn, bored. "Anyway, he needs to mind his own damn business. Sheesh, I can't believe a stranger tried to kill me!"

"I think you're being a little dramatic," Hattie says softly, grinning. I chuck a pillow at her head.

"I'm thinking I'll go for comfortable instead of hot. What say-eth you, Hat-attack?"

"It depends on what you consider to be comfortable."

I pull my pink hoodie out of my suitcase; it's all the way at the bottom, wadded up. I shake it out and pull it on over my black Battle of the Bands tee, and then slip on some old faded denims and my black and white converse shoes.

"Viola!"

"Yeah, um…well, on the bright side, you could definitely do worse," Hattie says, but she doesn't look impressed. Oh, well. I skip into the bathroom to do my hair and make-up. My hair is kinda messy from all the…erm…moving around last night, so I just pull it up into a sloppy side-ponytail and am done with it. For my make-up I don't do much either, just a dab of mascara and a smear of lip gloss, and I'm ready!

"Man, I hate people like you. You could wear a paper sack and still look perfect," Hattie says, looking annoyed at me.

"You are so full of it!" I laugh. I mean Hattie is way prettier than I am, especially at first glance. Her long, dark hair is never frizzy or messy-looking, for one thing. She's really tan, for another. She has a sort of exotic look about her, with large, slanted eyes the color of dark honey, and long black eyelashes. "Hey, Hattie?" I ask, curious.

"What?"

"Where did you get your eye color?"

"At the corner store, of course," She rolls her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, they're a really…unique color. It must run in the family, right? Which side?"

"My mother's. Her whole side of the family was Bohemian; they lived in France. My dad was born in Russia."

"Well, that explains the accent," I say, grinning. She just shrugs. "Okay, come on!" We leave the common room, me happier than I have been in a long time. There are about ten people in the common room, and James definitely isn't one of them. But Jimmy is.

"Jimmy!" I walk over to him; he's scratching something down on some parchment, probably homework. "Have you seen James? He came down here about fifteen minutes ago." Jimmy looks up, scratches his head.

"Oh. Yeah. I saw him," He says vaguely, going back to his writing.

"And?" I ask impatiently. "Where is he?"

"Newsflash, Max. I'm not your boyfriend's babysitter." He collects his belongings and stalks off, up to his dorm room. Hattie comes beside me, shaking her head.

"Please tell me you know what's going on here," She says. I frown. What?

"Enlighten me! Why is he so pissy today? Sheesh!"

"Because he's jealous!"

"Why the hell would he be jealous?" I ask, still confused. I'm starting to think something reeeally weird is going on here.

"You were right," Hattie says sadly, shaking her head. "That sorting hat was one cruel bastard putting you in with the smart kids."

"I resent that!" I scowl, turning towards the exit. "Let's go find James."

"Are you sure you don't want to—"

"Hattie!" I interrupt, eyes wide. "Please!"

"Okay, okay! Let's go."

And we're off, on a mission!

The halls are practically all deserted; it's the weekend, and people are chillin outside. I don't blame them. Anyway, my point is, that that's exactly why it's weird when we hear two voices having a heated argument.

"Quick, behind here!" Hattie ducks behind a large potted plant, dragging me with her. I sort of fall on the way, and get dirt all over my hoodie. I'm about to swear when Hattie clamps her hand over my mouth and hisses for me to be quiet. "Shut up and keep hidden! This is something I want to hear!" I look to where she's pointing, where the angry voices are coming from.

"How could you? I've let it slide before, I've made excuses, but this time you took it too far!"

"Lily, please—"

"No! I'm tired of this! Did you know McGonagall suspended me from my Head Girl duties?"

"Lily!" I gasp, finally realizing why the voice sounds so familiar. "But who's with her?"

"Shhh!" Hattie whispers, looking exciting. "It's Snape!"

"What's that sound?" Snape asks. Suddenly, everything freezes. Not literally, but, like, both he and Lily stop talking, and come around the corner. I hold perfectly still, trying to keep my breathing shallow and undetectable. "Who's there?"

He's scary. I mean, he isn't as ugly as I pictured him to be, but he's certainly not good looking either, and looks like he wants to kill something, possibly even a someone. He walks toward us slowly, looking around, wand raised. I decide that I have no choice but to show myself. I put my finger to my lips, telling Hattie to stay hidden, and then pop up, laughing nervously.

Lily and Snape literally leap back in surprise. I look down at myself; I'm covered in dirt and small pieces of fern.

"Well, this is exceedingly awkward," I say, trying to put a smile on my face and look nonchalant. "Fancy—er—seeing you two here."

"What are you doing here?" Lily asks coldly.

"Funny you should ask…just a little check up on—er—soil conditions—a science project. Gotta run!" I hurry away, knowing they'll follow me. And I'm not disappointed.

"Why were you spying on us?" Snape asks. He has a low, unpleasant way of slurring his 'r's together. I shudder.

"I wasn't! I told you, I was just—"

"You should really," Snape starts, grabbing my arm, "Mind your own business. For your own safety."

"Is that a threat?" I turn, a weird feeling of-I don't even know what—flooding my chest at the sight of Jimmy standing there, looking furious. Snape lets go of my arm like it's burning him, and takes a step back, raising his arms.

"No harm," Snape says, but his eyes tell a different story. "Come on, Lily, let's go."

Lily stares at him for a moment, then looks over at Jimmy and shakes her head.

"No thanks. I'm good right where I am." She looks coldly at the long-haired, wallowy figure.

Snape just glares furiously at everyone, whips his cape around, and makes his exit.

"I give him a solid eight out of ten on the runway. His hips just didn't have the necessary swagger," I say, shaking my head sadly. "So much potential, gone to waste…" Jimmy chuckles, shaking his head and pulling me to him.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted back there." He says, after a brief hug. "It's none of my business who you spend all night with."

"How did you—"

"Please. I know everything." He raises an eyebrow cockily.

"Wait…who were you with all night?" Lily asks. I turn to face her. Revenge is suh-weet!

"James Potter," I say, smiling. "I mean, you knew we were going out, right? Man, you really missed out when you kept saying no to James. I mean, the way he touches me…" I let the sentence hang in midair. "…and moans my name…"

"Be nice now, girlies." Hattie joins the gang, also covered in fern debris. "Don't worry, Lily, she's exaggerating."

"Oh, am I now?" I ask, grinning evilly. "I'll let you keep thinking that. Anyway, thanks for the save Jimmy. I really owe you one. Sometimes I wonder what I'd do without you."

"Probably get yourself killed. Honestly, do you literally attract trouble?"

"Well, I was gonna wait to tell you this, but…yeah, when I was a baby, I had to get this major surgery, because my heart was outside of my body." I sniff, looking down. "They had to put a huge metal plate on my chest to protect it. I believe the warning label actually reads, 'WARNING: ATTRACTS TROUBLE'."

"You are so full of shit!"

"And how do you know I'm not telling the truth?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"Well, for one thing," He says, "Remember that day you flashed us on the train? Well, I definitely didn't see any sign of a metal plate." He steps closer to me, smiling impishly. "And trust me, I was looking. Stay out of trouble, will you?" And with that he turns away, grinning to himself. I just stare after him, then swallow. I feel two people come up and stand on either side of me.

"So, if you're going out with Potter—" Hattie starts.

"—What are you doing flashing Jimmy?" Lily finishes, smirking.

Uh-oh.

"Funny story, the flashing incident...actually…hehehe…would you believe me if I said things aren't what they look like?"

"So what do they look like, Max?" Lily asks. There's an awkward silence, during which Lily turns bright red. "Wait, that came out wrong…"

"Wow, wouldn't James like that…we could have a threesome: you, me, and James. It'll have to be in your bed, of course…mine's too small."

"What's this I hear about a threesome?" James asks, turning he corner. Sheesh, does he have bionic hearing, or what? _The amazing James! Just a sexual innuendo away!_

"Evans asked to see my boobs. I figured, hey, what the hell. Wanna come along?"

James looks stunned.

"You are a cow," Lily says, but she's smiling slightly.

"I try. So, James, Lily doesn't believe me when I say that we're still an item," I say, walking up to him, daring him.

He takes me in his arms and kisses me sweetly on the mouth. "Alert the papers! This must be the first time Evan's wrong," he says against my lips. I'm beaming.

"Did you know Jimmy and she have a thing?" Lily asks quickly. James pulls away from me.

"What?"

"She flashed him. Also, she posed for him and let him paint her in bed."

"Okay, first of all, that flashing thing, totally not that big a deal. It was on the train, way back on the way to Hogwarts. Second of all, he painted me while I was sleeping; I didn't have a say in it. And third of all, how the hell did you know that he painted me?"

"I have friends in low places," She hisses.

"Ahh, in the Slytherin dungeons, I take it. Can't get much lower than the basement."

"You think you're so smart," She says.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but who's the one who got put into Ravenclaw again? What? What's that? OHHH, the sweet silence of I'M RIGHT AND YOU'RE WRONG."

"You are so immature!" She says disgustedly.

"And you're like the frickin forty-year-old ho-down, minus the down!"

"I pity you, James," Lily says, looking at him, shaking her head. "You honestly deserve better."

"Oh, I take it you mean yourself?" I ask haughtily.

"I mean anyone. Because anyone is better than you. Or would 'everyone' have been a better term…"

"Listen, are you two gonna fight, or should I just go back down to the caf?"

"No. We're finished here." I storm away from Lily, Hattie hurrying to keep up with me.

"Later, Evans!" I hear James call before he comes after me.

"How the hell did you know where I was?" I ask sharply.

"I just did, okay?" James looks uncomfortable. "Chill out."

"I'm chill! I'm chill!" I wave my hands around in the air, and little pieces of fern flutter to the ground. "So…breakfast, anyone?"


	15. Blind Accusations and Bikinis

The breakfast hall is full of late-morning risers such as myself, all piling their plates high with eggs, toast and bacon. I rub my hands together in anticipation before glancing over at my House table. Hattie is carefully inspecting a sausage, nose wrinkled in distaste, while Jimmy stabs abusively at a defenseless piece of bacon, looking sullen and agitated. As of now I'm sitting by James at the Gryffindor table, surrounded by the Marauders.

"So, Max, what would you rate James's skill out of ten?" Sirius asks, propping his head on his fist. "Don't be afraid to go into the negatives."

"Shut up, Padfoot!" James says, glaring at his friend and looking embarrassed.

"Don't mind Sirius, Max. He's just a pervert," Remus explains calmly, patting my arm consolingly. "Anyway, how do you fancy the classes so far? Are they to your liking?"

"Eh. The teachers are pretty nice, for the most part, but they're all really boring. And I don't understand why they get so upset when I never do my homework. I mean, honestly, they should really stop being so surprised."

"You don't do your homework? Any of it?" Remus asks, looking shocked. I snort at his incredulity.

"I have better ways of spending my time. Namely making out with your friend James." I lean over and kiss James on the neck; he turns and presses his mouth to mine. While he's kissing me, something compels me to open my eyes and look over his shoulder to where Hattie and Jimmy are sitting. Jimmy's looking directly at me. I'm so surprised that I quickly close my eyes and turn away.

"Ugg, this is sickening," A girl sitting nearby says loud enough for us to hear. "Get a room!"

"Shut up, Liz! They're fine where they are." Sirius is looking dreamily at us. This is just too weird; I pull away from James.

"James, I think I should go and sit with my own table now. Bye!" I stand, kiss him on the cheek, and head over to sit between Hattie and Jimmy.

"What's up, guys? Jimmy, I told you not to torture your food like that! The poor pig has been through enough already."

Jimmy ignores me, dissecting a piece of crispy bacon with a toothpick and grinning evilly.

"I live to torment animals," He admits. "Especially the dead ones."

"You would be the type," I say, glaring suspiciously at him, then smiling. "So, what do you guys want to do today? I'm game for pretty much anything."

"Hmmm. Well, I was actually planning on doing some homework today, getting that all taken care of. And you have your detention…"

"Oh, yeah! I almost forgot, again. Well, what about tonight, then?"

"What do you have in mind?" He looks curiously at me. A slow smile strtches across my face.

"Well…"

"I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"I was thinking maybe we could take a little dip in the great lake. Before it gets too cold to."

"Are you crazy? The lake is really deep, you know; tons of things live in it, too." Jimmy sounds apprehensive.

"I think it's a brilliant idea!" Hattie claps her hands together, looking excited. "I brought my bathing suit."

"Oh, I wasn't thinking we'd use our suits," I say shyly. "Have either of you ever been skinny dipping?"

They stare at me.

"Oh, come on, it'll be fun!"

"Well…I suppose I'm game…" Jimmy says slowly. "How skinny are we talking, though? Skin-skinny or knickers-skinny?"

"Maybe just knickers-skinny for the first time. Like a sort of practice round," Hattie suggests. I shrug, agreeing.

"Well, it's settled then! Excellent. Now if you'll excuse me, I have business to take care of." I stand, dust off my pants, and walk back over to the Gryffindor table.

"James?" He turns to me, and stands, grinning. His hand jumps to his hair, messing it up.

"What is it, love?"

"Can you give yourself a detention with me this afternoon? I could use the company."

"Sure. I should do something detention-worthy, though. What trouble should I start this time?" He narrows his eyes in thought. "Aha!" He grins, pats me on the shoulder, and then starts walking towards the Slytherin table, finds Snape, and randomly punches him in the face.

"What the—" Snape is totally unprepared, shocked at the surprise attack. He clutches his nose, which is dripping blood.

"Don't bother, Professor," James says, waving a furious-looking McGonagall away. "I'll give myself a detention. James Potter, I sentence you to scrubbing the Quidditch posts this afternoon." He walks back over to me. "Oh, and don't bother trying to curse me, Snivellus. I have eyes in the back of my head."

Snape tries to throw a curse at James, who deflects it without once turning around. My eyes widen, impressed. Then I spot Remus out of the corner of my eyes, shooting deflective curses at James. Aha! So Remus is his eyes.

By the time I have to head out to the Quidditch pitch, there's a whole group of kids "in detention" with me, including Sirius, Remus, Dick, Ethan, Ben, and Hattie. When James offered to give Jimmy detention, Jimmy told him to stuff it and stop acting like such a prick, and then went back up to the Ravenclaw Common Room. Lily's coming too, saying that she needs to keep an eye on James and make sure he stays in line. I roll my eyes at this.

"Puh-leaze. Like there are any boundary lines in James's life that he wouldn't be willing to pass."

"You'd be surprised," Lily says darkly. I ignore her.

"So, where do we get the brooms?"

We borrow these crappy brooms from the school and fly up, cleaning materials in hand. It's harder than it looks to keep balance while scrubbing. Sometimes when nobody's looking I sneak my wand out and use magic to clean, but I'm worried Lily will catch me and give me another detention. Actually…I guess she can't! She's suspended!

"Screw this!" I drop the bucket of sudsy water and the sponge—they fall to the ground, where someone just happens to be standing. Crap. I fly down to see who it is who's now drenching wet; it's Dick. I shrug, then fly back up. Dick'll live. He needs a little water splashed on him once and awhile, anyway.

"You'll regret that!" He calls up, sounding pissed.

"I highly doubt it," I laugh, soaring up, up, and awaaaaay! The sky is really blue now, the sun bright and hot on my back. Maybe I'll get a tan! I really need one. That gives me an idea.

"Hey, Hattie! Let's change into our bathing suits and get _tan_!" I shout.

"Good idea!" She calls back, flying closer.

"Hey, Head Boy! Do we have your permission to change so we don't—er—ruin our clothes with this icky water?"

He shrugs. "What do I care? The badge is just for show, Lily makes all the calls. But then again, I guess she's suspended!" He sounds pleased about this. "Go ahead!"

"This is not a social get-together!" Lily shrieks, looking grumpy. "You're supposed to stay and work!"

"You can change, too, if you want," I say, shrugging. She glares at me.

"Absolutely _not_."

"Okay, then. Suit yourself. Or—well—don't!" Hattie and I soar back to the ground, landing gently and setting our brooms in the shade so they're nice and cool when we get back.

The walk from the Quidditch pitch to the castle is pretty lengthy; it takes us a good fifteen-twenty minutes to get there, and then another ten to get to the Ravenclaw common room and solve the riddle. Once we're in our room, we run to our suitcases and dig out our bathing suits. We both have bikinis; hers is tangerine orange, and makes her look super tan—mine is navy blue with red and white polka dots.

"You look so cute!" Hattie says, clapping—we're both giddy with the prospect of flying in our bathing suits (a life-long dream of mine, sadly). "Should we wear our robes overtop?"

"Probably," I shrug, and grab my school robe, pulling it over my bathing suit; my front is still revealed, but oh, well. Hattie pulls hers on, and we head back out to the common room, where there's a decent-sized group of students studying still, including Jimmy.

"Jimmy!" I run over to him, grinning.

"You dressed…down…" His eyes are glued to my bare stomach.

"We're just playing around with water out at the Quidditch pitch." I grin still larger. "You should come, it's fun."

"I might just do that."

"Great! See ya, then!"

Everyone's staring; well, the guys are anyway.

"Party at the Quidditch pitch!" I shout, and Hattie and I make our exit. "Lily is gonna be so _pissed_!" I laugh at the thought of her expression when the whole school shows up to watch my detention.

The hallways are by no means deserted; plenty of people are milling around. They all either cheer when we walk by or move as far away from us as possible, looking disgusted. Either way I don't really care. I'm on top of the world!

The posts already look cleaner from a distance, all shiny and golden and whatnot. I have a sneaking suspicion that quite a bit of magic was used.

"Do you think your brother likes me? Does he have a girlfriend?" Hattie asks suddenly. I groan.

"Well, I know for a fact that he thinks you're hot, if that means anything to you. And no, he doesn't have a girlfriend."

"He thinks I'm hot?" She gets this disturbingly dreamy look on her face, kind of like the way James used to look when he was thinking about Lily.

"Can we not talk about this?" I ask. "Awkward territory! Awkward territory!"

"Fine, fine. Oooh, I think they see us!" She waves; we're close enough now to see everyone clearly; almost there! We still have our robes on; they're really hot in the sun. The second we reach the pitch I throw mine off and sigh in relief.

"Looking good!" Dick calls giving me the thumbs up. I just ignore him, grab my broom, and fly up again to where James is hovering.

"James!" He turns; he hadn't realized I was there yet.

"Wow! You look great!"

"Hey you guys, look at all those people coming!" Ethan calls, facing the castle. I turn and see a huge crowd of students rushing this way. I laugh loudly, knowing this is my doing. Lily is soo mad.

"What did you do?" She grinds out, looking furious.

"ME? Don't make blind accusations, Lilikins."

"I know you're behind this!" She flies away towards the crowd, probably to tell them to leave.

"Hey Max, how are your lungs? Maybe you should take a break." Ben come up behind me, smiling. He loves flying just as much as I do.

"I have a better idea: let's race!" I zoom straight up into the air laughing, my body pulled close to my broom for better aerodynamics. I can hear him catching up and speed up a bit. It's a weird feeling being this high up; the sun is huge and bright and hot, but the air is freezing. I shiver in my bikini. I should probably go a bit lower. I'm breathing fast in the excitement; my lungs are starting to ache. Fuck. I fly lower and slower, trying to calm my racing heart and rapid breathing. I should land now. I should definitely land.

There's a covering of clouds between me and the ground, blocking my sight; I have no idea where anybody is, including Ben.

I can tell I'm going to fall, even before I do. The thin air and bad lungs probably weren't the most ingenious combination. Not to mention the high altitudes. Even when I feel my vision blackening I try to hang on to the broom, choking for breath, because hitting the ground from here would be suicide. I try and call for help, but I can't seem to force enough air out of my lungs to form words. Eventually I release my grip, blacking out.

"Max? Max!"

I wake to the sound of someone calling my name. I'm on solid ground again, the green grass soft and warm under my bare skin.

"Ben?" I ask raspily; my throat burns.

"I'm here, sis." He hugs me, shaking. "This is all my fault. I should have never let you fly! I'm just as bad as that bastard friend of yours, Jackson!"

"I can't…see right…"

"What? What do you mean?"

"It's all black! Why is it all black?"

"Shh, just calm down and relax, I'm going to take you to Pomfrey!" I feel Ben scoop me up into his arms. There are lots of voices around me, muttering different things.

"What's wrong with her? Is she okay? Are you okay, Max?" James sounds terrified; I can sense him hovering nearby.

"I'm blind! I know it!" Huge tears roll down my cheeks; if I lose my vision, I lose everything.

"I'm here for you, Max." I feel his hand gently on my cheek, and try to stop crying.

"Where's Hattie?" I ask.

"She flew ahead to warn Madam Pomfrey."

"Did I fall?"

"It was terrible," James shudders. "If Dick hadn't been exactly where he was…"

" _Dick_ saved me?" I ask incredulously.

"Yeah, caught you in the nick of time too. I thought you were a goner."

Great, so now on top of everything else, I owe Dick my life. Wonderful.

People shout questions on the way into the castle; I can hear the gossip train starting already. I don't really recognize any voices, until we run into Jimmy. His voice is very distinguishable.

"Hattie told me everything. Is she conscious?"

"I'm conscious, I'm just blind," I confirm. "I guess every silver lining has its rain cloud."

"You're…blind? Are you sure?" his voice sounds odd, croaky. "Max, you have no idea…if I would have just been there…"

Oh no. He's blaming himself, isn't he.

"Are we almost there?" I ask, whiney.

"Almost there, babe. Almost there."

Madam Pomfrey says that my blindness is because, despite Dick's catch, I still seem to have hit my head. She said that it's probably temporary, though, and that sometimes in these cases a person's vision comes back after a day or two, or sometimes even longer, like a week. She makes me stay in the hospital wing for the rest of the day, and the next day, just to make sure I'm completely fine.

Sunday evening someone comes to pick me up.

"Who is it?" I ask.

"Hattie." She comes and hugs me, and I hug her back. "Come on, let's go. We still have time to eat supper."

"But I can't see!"

"I'll help you," she promises. So we make our way to the great hall, where everyone is still enjoying their meals. Nobody really notices when we walk in; or, at least I don't think they do. There's no sudden quieting or otherwise of the hall, at least. I have to lean completely on her all the way to the table, where she sits down beside me.

"How are you feeling?" Jimmy sounds extremely concerned.

"Fine, I guess." I shrug. "So, what's for supper?"

"Meatloaf, and corn, and more smashed potatoes than you can imagine!" I hear Hattie loading my plate. "Open wide!"

I open my mouth; she spoon-feeds me.

And unfortunately my shame is a bit harder to swallow than the potatoes are.


	16. It'd be Easier if I Hated You

"You know what this calls for?"

"What?" I ask dully.

"Piggy-back rides!"

"And you really think you can carry me around all day, Hattie?"

"Well…no…I was thinking of Jimmy. You guy have practically the same classes."

"Somehow I don't think James would like that."

"Oh…right."

"Yeah."

"Wait! Dumbledore is coming over here, with a wheelchair."

"Really? Sweet!"

"Miss DeVough, I trust you can find someone to help you to your classes? I'm afraid you can't afford to miss any more lessons; you're already extremely behind in almost every subject."

"Is this like a fancy-shmancy magical wheelchair, or just a boring regular one?" I ask excitedly, ignoring his warnings over my grades.

"Just a regular one, I'm afraid," Dumbledore says, chuckling. "Good day to you both."

"Okay, he's gone now," Hattie says. "Here, let me help you into the chair." She helps me stand, and then places me into the chair; it's comfortable, but I can already tell I'm going to get tired of sitting in it all day.

"Thanks. So…what class do we have next, again?"

"Potions."

"Wonderful! Who needs vision for making potions?" I ask sarcastically.

"One of the most talented potion makers of all times was blind," Hattie says. "Demetri Revolvus, or something like that. Invented the antidote to the common cold."

"And yet he couldn't make a potion to cure himself?" I mutter.

"Well…he was trying to, but things got out of hand…he ended up losing both his eyes, and eventually died of Syphilis."

"And those things have what in common?" I ask.

"Nothing. I just thought you should know."

"Well, thanks for the health lesson Hatt. Where's Jimmy, anyway?"

"I think he went to put the finishing touches on his Potions project."

"Project?"

"Extra credit. He had to invent his own potion. He's always been really good at that," She says fondly.

"What potion is he inventing, exactly?" I ask, impressed.

"I have no idea; he won't tell anyone until it's perfect. Don't tell him I said so, but he's a major perfectionist."

This surprises me. I mean, come on—Jimmy, really?

"Okay, we're definitely moving! You're not going to drive me off a cliff or anything, right?" It's nerve-wracking not having my vision; I feel really jumpy, and cringe whenever Hattie turns the chair or comes to a stop.

"AHAHAHAHAHA."

"That isn't exactly the response I hoped for."

"I would never do anything like that to you, silly thing," she says innocently. I huff, crossing my arms.

"Are we almost there?"

"We just started! We still have two more stories till the dungeons. Calm down, you're so twitchy."

It takes about ten more minutes and lots of swearing while trying to get me down the steps on the way to the potions room. I can tell when we get there, because suddenly the air gets cooler, and dank. I hear her use her wand to open the door, and then push me into the room, where I assume not many people are yet because we're still pretty early despite the difficulty getting me down here.

"Max! I didn't think you'd come!"

"Yes, well, Dumbledore thinks my grades are one T too many at the moment. Any more and they'll move me into the mountains with the rest of the trolls." I shrug, unconcerned. "Come here!"

I hear him walking over to me, and motion for him to come closer.

"Lean in," I command. Soon I can feel his nervous breath on my face. I sigh, and then hug him. "Oh, how I've missed you, dreadlocks," I coo, stroking his hair. Jimmy lets out a long breath all at once, like he was expecting something and I disappointed him. But the next minute he's chuckling along with me, and gives me a quick hug back before pulling away.

"You're a good laugh," He says, but there's something in his voice that I can't quite understand. I guess not being able to see has made me a bit more perceptive, really.

Others are coming in now, chatting with each other while they take their seats.

"Jimmy, I'm really sorry to ask, but could you take notes for me? Hattie's handwriting is illegible, and I'll probably need notes to study from once my—you know—vision returns." _If_ it returns, I can't help thinking.

"Of course. Here, let me help you." He helps me into a chair, one arm around my shoulders, the other one on my side, leading me gently. He has a nice touch. "You can be my partner today; I'll get us an O no matter what the assignment is, so you don't need to worry about that." I smile, duly noting his confidence.

"Okay class, settle down! Oh, Miss DeVough, a pleasure to have you back! Today, class, we will be mixing up a little thing nick-named the Eye-Opener. It is meant to keep you awake without once feeling tired. Many use it when studying for exams; it is extremely helpful for concussion patients as well, who would otherwise slip into worse if they were to fall asleep. The instructions are on the board—you have an hour! Good luck!"

Jimmy bustles around, muttering to himself and, I assume, collecting the needed ingredients.

"What should I do?" I ask helplessly ten minutes later, when I can hear the cauldron liquid bubbling. "I feel like I'm just getting in your way. I have to do _something_."

"Right. You can crush the tubers. Here, take this." He hands me a mortar and pestle, and then two large, quivering roots.

"I can't see, though! What if I ground my fingers off?!"

"I think you'd notice," He says, laughing. "Don't worry. I'll help you. Now put your hand like this—good. And slowly…" He places his hand over mine, curling around the pestle. My breathing hitches, but I don't know why. He moves my hand in a circular motion, pressing down forcefully into the mortar. I can feel his hot breath on the back of my neck as he explains something to me. I'm too distracted to really hear what he's saying; my other senses are all too hard at work.

It's weird, not being able to see. All my other senses seem more acute, especially touch. Not seeing Jimmy, my body doesn't care that he's not James, or that I'm not going out with him—I'm attracted to him anyway.

"C-can you maybe s-step back from me?" I ask breathlessly, my face flushed. "Just a bit…I'm having trouble concentrating."

"Concentrating?" He asks, not moving away. "You mean I'm distracting you?"

"Yes! Yes! Please, move back, I can't…" The feeling's too strong, scarily strong, and it attacks my whole body. I don't like it. Not at all.

"Why am I distracting you?" He asks, a smile in his voice. "Say it."

"It's everything, okay? Everything about you at the moment! Your breath on my n-neck, your voice, your smell…"

"I see," He says, his voice low. "You look like you're being stabbed. Is it really so bad, feeling that way?" He sounds hurt. He pulls away; my hand feels cold without his to hide it any more. "We should pay more attention to the potion. I want an O." His voice is harsh, words clipped. And the next half-hour go by without incident, or comment. I grind the roots; he takes them from me, probably to measure them into the potion.

"Jimmy, please don't be mad at me," I say finally, the awkward silence getting to me. "I couldn't stand it if you hated me." And suddenly that thought brings so much anxiety to me that I shudder, burying my head in my hands, shaking. He's with me in a moment, his arms around me, and this time I don't fight him, or argue, but lean into him, letting my body feel the way it does. He wraps his arms around me, comforting me, and then tentatively strokes my hair. I sigh.

"Don't be sad, Max. Please. I could never hate you. Trust me, sometimes I wish I could—it would make this all so much easier if I did."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I l—"

"Enough chatter! Come now, you two, your potion is not being properly attended to!" Slughorn says crossly. Jimmy jumps up, rushing to the potion. Stupid Slughorn.

We end up getting an O on the potion, just like Jimmy promised we would. After class we wheel away in silence; Hattie senses something's up between Jimmy and me, but doesn't say anything about it, which I appreciate.

Well, I should say that she doesn't say anything about it _at first_.

"So, you two looked pretty cozy back there," She says, grinning. "You're cute together, I've always thought so."

This just leads to an awkward clearing of throats and blushes.

"You know what I miss?" I ask suddenly, when Hattie is about to say something else. "Silence."

"I see." She doesn't say anything for the rest of the trip back to the common room.

Once we (and by 'we' I mean Jimmy) answer the riddle and get into the common room, I'm itching to get up out of the chair and walk around.

"Does anyone want to go on a walk with me?" I ask. "If you lead me, it should be fine, right?"

"We just got you up here! Give us a little breather, Max!"

"Fine, fine. Later, then?"

"Sure."

Suddenly someone comes flying into the room, out of breath.

"Who is it?" I ask loudly.

"James! It's me, James! I was wondering if you wanted to go for a stroll around the grounds with me. I could lead you." He sounds breathless, like he ran up here.

"Funny you should say that, I was just asking Jimmy if he wanted to take a walk. He said no, though. Sure, I'll come." I stand, but am not sure where to head. In a moment James is by my side, wrapping his arm around my waist and kissing me lightly on the cheek. "Come on then!"

"Have a nice time," Jimmy mutters behind me as we leave the room. I look back towards him, unseeing, and give him a small smile.

I'd give anything to know if he is smiling back.


End file.
